


To Bite The Hand That Feeds You

by general_galatea



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Manipulation, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, but theres a loooot of blood, eeeee its a lot of blood, mild PTSD, no one actually commits suicide though, nothing too graphic, sorry no happy ending, theyre family because i say so, trigger warnings in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29249934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/general_galatea/pseuds/general_galatea
Summary: "Tubbo... please don't go..."An AU in which Punz came too late :')
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 79
Kudos: 258





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy im like ten years late but whatever
> 
> tw: blood, death, mention of suicide, manipulation

They’ve come so far together.

Throughout everything, it’s always been Tommy and Tubbo. Tommy and Tubbo, fighting for the discs. Tommy and Tubbo, fighting for L’manberg’s freedom. Tommy and Tubbo, fighting against Schlatt’s rule. Tommy and Tubbo, trying to keep the country together after Wilbur blew it up. Even during Tommy’s exile, it had still been Tommy and Tubbo. Not necessarily fighting together, but it remained between them. During Dream’s attack, it had been Tommy and Tubbo, trying to keep each other from dying.

Tommy and Tubbo, fighting against Dream for the last time, knowing that if either of them slip for an instant, it’s over. 

“Tubbo, Tubbo please, don’t go, we can get out of this, we have to get out of this-” Tommy seizes Tubbo’s shoulders, shaking him. “We can get out of this, you don’t have to give up, please, I know we can-”

Tubbo smiles, gently lifting Tommy’s hands from his shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says softly. “There aren’t any other options.”

“But- Tubbo, no!” Tommy shakes his head, feeling tears welling in his eyes. No. It can’t end like this. There has to be another way. “Don’t just accept it! Tubbo, we can get out of this, I can think of a different way, we can escape, we don’t have to let Dream win, we can get out of this! I just have to-”

“Tommy, we can’t get out.” Tubbo looks around at the blackstone walls, gaze skipping over Dream. “I… this is checkmate. All good things must come to an end and- and this is my end. It’s alright, really.”

“Tubbo, no, no, no, this can’t- Tubbo, I can’t-”

There are too many words and too little time. Tears are threatening to choke Tommy. He can’t let Tubbo die. There’s too much Tommy has to say to him, too many things to apologize for-

Dream pushes off the wall, twirling his sword. “Alright. I’ve given you time. It’s time for Tubbo to go.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “No. No, no, no, no, no, please no, please, I haven’t-”

Tubbo takes a step back towards Dream. “It’s alright, Tommy.”

Shock keeps Tommy frozen in place as Tubbo keeps backing up. No. Tubbo won’t die. Dream has to be bluffing. Surely he won’t actually kill Tubbo. Surely he’s got to be lying. Dream always lies. He won’t actually kill Tubbo. He _won’t_ . Tommy can find a way out of this, he has to, he has to or else Tubbo _will die-_ but no, surely Dream has to be lying. Dream won’t actually kill Tubbo-

Dream raises his sword over Tubbo’s head.

_He’s going to kill Tubbo._

Something inside of Tommy _snaps._

“NO!” he shouts, bolting forward and throwing himself at Tubbo. “NO, I’M NOT LETTING YOU KILL TUBBO, YOU’LL HAVE TO KILL ME FIRST-” 

He stumbles and falls, taking Tubbo down with him. Tears are running freely down his face as Tommy wraps his arms around Tubbo, curling up around him to shield Tubbo with his own body. If Dream wants Tubbo, he’ll have to get through Tommy first, Tommy would rather give up his own life than let Tubbo die, Dream is _not_ going to kill Tubbo-

“Oh, Tommy,” Dream sighs. “You always have to make things so _difficult.”_

“No, no, no, you _stay the fuck away from Tubbo,_ I’m not letting you kill him-!”

Thick, heavy sobs cut Tommy off. He’s crying harder than he ever has before, harder than he ever did when Schlatt kicked him out, harder than he ever did during his exile. Beneath him, Tubbo’s crying too, the tears soaking the front of his shirt. “Tommy, it’s fine, it’s fine, you have to let me go-”

Dream strides forward, grabbing the collar of Tommy’s shirt and pulling him off of Tubbo. “NO!” shrieks Tommy, flailing in Dream’s grip. “NO, NO, NO, I’M NOT LETTING YOU KILL TUBBO, YOU CAN’T, YOU CAN’T-”

He kicks out frantically, feeling one foot connect with Dream’s body. Dream grunts, releasing him for a moment, and Tommy flings himself back at Tubbo. He barely gets halfway before Dream’s arm snakes around his middle, lifting Tommy off his feet. Tommy shrieks again and thrashes wildly, desperately trying to make Dream _let go_ . His fists beat against Dream’s arm to no effect as Dream drags him away from Tubbo. Tommy fights tooth and nail, but it isn’t working, Dream isn’t letting go, Dream keeps hauling him away from Tubbo. Tommy’s never fought this hard against Dream before, never dared to hurt him out of fear that Dream would kill him, but he doesn’t _care_ now, Tommy would rather die than let Tubbo die, all that matters is protecting Tubbo-

Tommy’s nails rake across Dream’s forearm, tearing through fabric, tearing through _skin._ Dream hisses, his hold loosening for a fraction of a second. Tommy tries to squirm free, and Dream hits him hard across the face. Tommy’s head snaps sideways with the force of the blow, prompting a cry of alarm from Tubbo. “Tommy, stop,” Dream snarls. “You’ve had your chance to say your goodbyes, I’ve given you too much time, and now this is it! Give it up, Tommy! You can’t _save_ him!”

Tommy struggles even harder. “NO! NO, NO, NO, I’M NOT- I CAN STILL- YOU CAN’T- I’M NOT LETTING YOU KILL TUBBO!”

Dream seizes the front of Tommy’s shirt and slams him into the ground. Tommy swings at Dream’s head to no avail, Dream deftly catching his wrist. Metal flashes in Dream’s other hand, and Tommy howls in pain as Dream drives a dagger straight through Tommy’s hand, pinning it to the ground. Splotches of black take over his vision as white-hot pain shoots up the length of Tommy’s arm. “STOP IT!” Tubbo shouts, his voice shrill with panic.

“Stay,” Dream hisses at Tommy. “Try that again, and it’ll be worse for Tubbo.”

Tommy goes dead still. 

Slowly, Dream nods and stands up. “Good.” He glances between Tommy and Tubbo, then nods again. “Good. I want you to watch, Tommy.”

“Please.” Tommy’s voice trembles. “Please, please don’t. Please, I’ll do anything, you can have the discs, you can have me, I’ll go with you, just please, _please,_ don’t kill Tubbo, let Tubbo go, Tubbo didn’t do anything-”

Dream snatches a handful of Tubbo’s hair and yanks his head back, baring his neck. Tubbo’s entire body shakes, tears streaming down his face, yet he still tries for a weak smile at Tommy.

_No. No, no, no, no, no-_

“Dream, please, please I’ll do- I’ll do anything, Dream, please-!” Tommy chokes on the words but he forces them out anyways, pleading, _begging_ for his best friend’s- his _brother’s-_ life. “Please, please don’t, I’ll do anything, please, I’ll go with you, I won’t struggle, I won’t try to escape, don’t kill him, don’t kill him, don’t kill him-”

Dream pushes up his mask, exposing his face. Looking straight at Tommy, he drags his sword across Tubbo’s throat.

And Tommy _screams._

Dream shoves Tubbo forward, and Tubbo collapses on the ground. Another scream tears free from Tommy’s mouth and he jerks up. The dagger in his hand stops him. Without thinking, Tommy rips his hand up through the dagger, heedless of the pain. “ _TUBBO!”_

Tommy scrambles towards his brother on his hands and knees. Blood is pooling around Tubbo. There’s _so much blood-_

He pulls Tubbo into his lap. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, Tubbo, please-” 

Tommy sobs. The slit in Tubbo’s throat is so wide, so irreparable, so _deep._ Blood pours from it steadily, coating Tubbo’s neck in red. No. No, no, no, no, no. Please, no. This can’t be real, it has to be another one of Dream’s tricks, Dream can’t have actually- can’t have actually done _this._ Tubbo has to be fine. He has to be fine. Tubbo’s always fine. After the Final Control Room, he was fine, respawning back at the camarvan. After the festival, he was fine, somehow managing to forgive Technoblade when even Tommy couldn’t. Tubbo’ll be fine. Tubbo will be _fine._ He won’t die. He _can’t_ die.

There’s a soft, choked gasping noise, and with a jolt of terror Tommy realizes it’s coming from _Tubbo._ His eyes are wide, staring at Tommy, and his mouth works like he’s trying to speak. He’s trying to _speak_. Tommy sobs again, pressing shaking hands to the cut in Tubbo’s throat. “No, no, no, no, no, shhh, Tubbo, it’s okay, it’s okay Tubbo, you’ll be fine, I can get us out of here, you’ll be okay, you won’t- I won’t let you-”

Tubbo convulses in his grip, his hand clutching at Tommy's wrist. Blood oozes out from between Tommy’s fingers. No. No, no, no, it isn’t working, it isn’t _working._ Tubbo’s _dying._ Tubbo’s dying and Tommy can’t stop it. Please. Please, no. 

Tubbo’s breathing is growing shallower by the second, to the point where Tommy has to hold his own breath in order to hear it. His eyes go out of focus, no longer locked on Tommy’s face. Tommy can feel Tubbo’s pulse underneath his fingers, fluttering weakly.

Please. Please, no. He’s already lost Wilbur. He can’t lose Tubbo too. Please. _Please._ Tommy can’t stand to lose another brother. Please, please, _please._

He can’t feel Tubbo’s pulse. No. Tommy feels around Tubbo’s neck desperately, searching for even the smallest motion, the smallest beat that might indicate that Tubbo’s alive, that Tubbo’s not-

He finds nothing. 

Tommy whimpers. “No, no, no, Tubbo, please, please stay with me, please…”

Tubbo’s head lolls back, the slit in his throat opening wider, eyes staring into nothing. His hand falls from Tommy’s wrist. 

“T- Tubbo…?”

No response.

“N- no… no, Tubbo… ple- please… please don’t be- no. No- no, no, no, no, _no,_ no, you can’t- no, no, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO! NO! _NO!_ TUBBO, PLEASE, NO, _NO, NO NO!”_

A harsh sob wrenches out of Tommy’s throat, choking his words. Tubbo’s dead. Tubbo’s _dead._ Tubbo’s third life is gone. Gone, he’s not going to respawn, Tommy won’t find him up at the bed on the cliff, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s _dead-_

Tubbo, building his house.

Tubbo, accidentally sniping Tommy off the pillar and apologizing frantically when Tommy respawned.

Tubbo, laughing joyously even as Dream stuck a sword through his back, laughing because Tommy had gotten back the disc.

Tubbo, relaxing on the bench next to him.

Tubbo, showing off his uniform.

Tubbo, crying in front of his destroyed house, a house that Dream had burned.

Tubbo, running towards him and shouting that the Dream Team was coming.

Tubbo, collapsing in the final control room with Sapnap’s axe stuck in his chest.

Tubbo, smiling despite the new scar across his chest, despite having just lost his first permanent life.

Tubbo, hugging him fiercely as Tommy prepared for the duel with Dream.

Tubbo, frantically trying to stem the flow of blood from the wound in Tommy’s chest.

Tubbo, standing by his side at the podium.

Tubbo, staring up at him, face ghostly white as Schlatt ordered him to hunt down Tommy.

Tubbo, hand tightly squeezing Tommy’s as he agreed to spy for them.

Tubbo, his torso a mess of shredded flesh and blood, skin blackened from the firework Technoblade had shot into his chest.

Tubbo, arms wrapped around Tommy and softly murmuring that he forgave Technoblade.

Tubbo, shoving emeralds into his pockets while Tommy laughed.

Tubbo, clutching Tommy’s hand as Schlatt choked on his own blood.

Tubbo, grinning nervously at Tommy from atop the podium.

Tubbo, thrown back into Tommy as L’manberg exploded around them.

Tubbo, constructing the wooden platforms where the rebuilt L’manberg would sit.

Tubbo, expression cold and hard as he ordered Dream to escort Tommy from the country.

Tubbo, standing in the portal, the very idea of it so unreal that Tommy wondered if he was hallucinating.

Tubbo, staring wide-eyed at Tommy as Tommy yelled, softly saying that he thought Tommy was dead.

Tubbo, screaming at Tommy in the ruins of the community house.

Tubbo, faltering as Tommy shouted that the discs were more important than Tubbo ever was.

Tubbo, fingers entwined with Tommy’s while Dream promised to destroy L’manberg for good.

Tubbo, apologizing quietly.

Tubbo, throwing himself in front of Tommy and taking the firework that was meant for Tommy.

Tubbo, leaning into him as they listened to a disc, not Cat or Mellohi, but a disc nonetheless.

Tubbo, chuckling as they followed the compass, recounting stories of their mishaps.

Tubbo, promising they’ll be alright.

Tubbo, shrieking as Dream held him over the edge of the cliff, Tommy frantically screaming at Dream to stop.

Tubbo, gently saying that it would be alright, that he would be alright.

Tubbo smiling.

Tubbo crying.

Tubbo fighting.

Tubbo laughing. 

“I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY, PLEASE! TUBBO, I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY, TUBBO, I’M SORRY! TUBBO, I’M SO, SO SORRY, I DIDN’T WANT- THIS ISN’T WHAT- I’M _SORRY!_ I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY, _I’M SORRY!”_

Tommy’s voice cracks. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t want this, you were supposed to survive, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry-!”_

Over and over and over again. He’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry. Sorry for all the times he made fun of Tubbo. Sorry for every time he said Tubbo was worthless or stupid. Sorry for leaving him behind at the election. Sorry for burning down George’s house. Sorry for leaving Tubbo to deal with the weight of the world by himself. Sorry for the community house. Sorry for fighting. Sorry for not protecting him better. Sorry for not being able to save him. Sorry for every single thing that Tommy’s done. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.

Tubbo. His best friend. The one who’s been with Tommy since the beginning. His _brother_. Dead in Tommy’s lap. 

Tommy clutches his brother close, buries his head in Tubbo’s chest, and _sobs._ He wills Tubbo to be to alive, to respawn, to shake with laughter and assure him that everything is alright. But Tubbo remains limp in Tommy’s arms, eyes glassy and unseeing. God, he looks so fucking _small_ cradled against Tommy’s body. Was he always this skinny? Why didn’t Tommy notice? Why didn’t Tommy notice how slight Tubbo’s frame was getting? Why didn’t Tommy sit him down and force him to eat something, to get some rest, to get healthier? Why didn’t Tommy take care of him?

Another brother gone in the blink of an eye.

Why didn’t Tommy save him? 

There’s a hand on his shoulder, fingers digging harshly into Tommy’s flesh. “Oh, Tommy.” Dream’s voice is full of disappointment. “Look what you did.”

“B- but…” Tommy’s head turns towards Dream, but his eyes stay locked on Tubbo’s empty ones. His voice shakes, barely coherent. “But you… you grabbed him and… you…”

Dream sighs. “Tommy, this is what happens when you don’t listen. You forced my hand, Tommy. If you had obeyed, I wouldn’t have had to kill Tubbo.”

“But… but- but I…” 

“This could have been avoided.” Dream’s other hand works slowly through Tommy’s hair, gently tugging out the snarled curls. “I didn’t have to kill him, Tommy. But you didn’t _listen._ You made me do this.” 

Tommy’s whole body quivers, racked with sobs. The touch feels nice. Dream’s fingers move slowly and methodically through his hair, gentle and reassuring. Philza used to do that. Philza used to do that when Tommy was scared or sad. But Philza’s gone. He left Tommy for Technoblade. Philza left him. Technoblade left him. Wilbur left him- sure, Ghostbur is still here, but Ghostbur isn’t _Wilbur._ And now Tubbo’s left him as well. 

Dream’s hand leaves his shoulder, moving to curl around Tommy’s chest and pull him closer. “This is your fault, Tommy. You’re the reason why Tubbo’s dead. If you had listened, followed my orders, Tubbo wouldn’t have died. This is _your fault.”_

_My fault._

Tubbo’s dead because of him.

This is what happens when he disobeys Dream.

Dream tried to tell Tommy when he blew up Logstedshire. Dream tried to tell him that that’s what happens.

But Tommy disobeyed him anyways.

Tommy left. Tommy deliberately disobeyed Dream. He tried to fight.

Dream told him _never_ to fight.

Tommy broke Dream’s trust. 

“My fault,” Tommy mumbles, barely audible.

Tommy deserves this. 

Dream’s fingers continue to work through Tommy’s hair. “This is what happens, Tommy. You didn’t listen. And now Tubbo’s dead. Dead because of you.”

Slowly, Dream stands up, dragging Tommy up with him. Tubbo rolls out from Tommy’s grip, and Tommy’s eyes widen. “Wait- please, I can’t- you can’t- I can’t leave him-”

Dream’s arm tightens around Tommy’s chest. “Tommy. Don’t test me.”

The words are sharp and cutting. Tommy freezes instinctively at the order. That’s the voice Dream uses when he’s mad. Dream’s warning him. If Tommy doesn’t obey him, there are going to be consequences. 

Dream begins dragging Tommy back towards the portal. Tommy hangs limp in his grip, the tips of his boots scraping against the floor. Tears still pour down his face, soaking through the front of his shirt. 

Tubbo lies in a crumpled heap where he’d fallen from Tommy’s grasp. Blood stains the ground around him, the scent cloying and metallic. 

Tubbo is his last remaining family. 

The familiar, strange sensation of the portal’s purple light washes over him. Dream’s taking him through the portal. He’s leaving Tubbo. Dream is _taking him away from Tubbo._

“NO!” Tommy bursts out. “NO I’M NOT GOING TO LEAVE HIM I’M NOT FUCKING LEAVING TUBBO YOU CAN’T MAKE ME YOU CAN’T MAKE ME LEAVE TUBBO-”

He thrashes wildly in Dream’s hold. Dream snarls, and Tommy kicks against the stone behind the portal. He feels Dream’s grip slip, and kicks harder. Finally Tommy tumbles out of the portal, smacking his shoulder against the ground. Ignoring the pain, Tommy rolls to his feet, stumbling towards Tubbo’s- no. He refuses to think of it as Tubbo’s body. That’s his _Tubbo._

Something jerks him back and Tommy falls with a cry. Dream. Dream’s fingers are entwined in his hair, scraping against his scalp, dragging him back. It isn’t comforting this time. This time it’s meant to force, to hurt, to restrain. 

It’s the same position Dream had Tubbo in before he slit Tubbo’s throat. 

Tommy kicks out frantically, hands flying up to where Dream’s got ahold of his hair. “LET ME GO- YOU FUCKING- YOU CAN’T- YOU CAN’T KEEP ME FROM- NO, I’M NOT LEAVING TUBBO, I’M NOT, I’M NOT, I’M _NOT-”_

Dream yanks at his hair and Tommy shouts in pain. “Tommy, stop,” he hisses. “Stop being so _dramatic._ Tubbo’s dead. It’s your fault he’s dead! You need to learn that there are consequences, Tommy!”

“Please- please just let me- please, no, I have to- I can’t-” He’s begging again, chest heaving with sobs. “Please, I can’t leave Tubbo, don’t make me leave him, please-”

“He’s dead, Tommy. You didn’t save him.” Dream wrenches Tommy’s head back, forcing Tommy to look at him. “Cooperate, and I won’t be forced to do something we _both_ might regret.”

Tommy struggles even harder, feet scrabbling against the blackstone floor. Words pour out of his mouth faster than he can stop them, curses and desperate pleas tumbling out uncontrollably. Dream growls in annoyance and pulls Tommy’s head back even further. Pain shoots down Tommy’s spine but he doesn’t stop, refusing to stay still for even a moment, refusing to stop writhing in Dream’s grip, refusing to let Dream think for an instant that Tommy’s giving up-

“Tommy, STOP!”

“No, no, no, please, I’m not leaving Tubbo, I’M NOT LEAVING TUBBO-” 

Dream shouts. Tommy feels the hand in his hair yank him back harshly before he’s thrown forward. He slams into one of the scattered pockets of bedrock and cries out in pain, curling on to his side. Something warm and wet is spilling across his face, spilling into Tommy’s mouth. No, it’s spilling _from_ Tommy’s mouth. There’s wetness trickling from his mouth, his nose, his forehead. Did he get hurt? That’s odd. Tommy doesn’t feel any pain. In fact, his entire face is numb. Why is his face numb?

Boots clack against blackstone, and fear spikes through Tommy. Dream’s mad. He disobeyed Dream. Dream warned him about disobeying. Dream said that if Tommy disobeyed him again there would be consequences. Dream said he might get mad. When Dream gets mad, Tommy isn’t safe. Dream gets mad when Tommy disobeys him. And Tommy just disobeyed Dream. 

Tommy rolls onto his stomach and scrambles to his feet. Dream’s striding towards him. His mask is still pushed up to rest on the side of his head, exposing every emotion that plays across his face. And right now, Dream looks furious.

Furious and… _triumphant._

“Tommy.” There’s that scolding, honeyed tone that Dream used so, so much when Tommy was exiled. “Tubbo’s dead. It’s your fault that he’s dead.” Dream pauses briefly next to where Tubbo lies, nudging Tubbo’s head with his boot. Tommy flinches as Tubbo’s head tilts sideways, the gash in his throat twisting horribly. “It’s time to go, Tommy.” 

No. No, he’s not going back to exile, he’s not going back to that place. This time there won’t be anyone there with him. No Ghostbur. No visits from Bad or Sam. No- no Tubbo to keep him going. 

Dream continues to advance. Tommy doesn’t realize that he’d been backing up until his back hits the wall. Dream smirks. “Come on, Tommy. You’re not going to stand up to _me_ . Besides, I’m your friend! I’m the only one who visited you during your exile! We’re _friends,_ Tommy.”

Tommy shakes his head frantically. “No, no, I’m not going back, I don’t _want_ to go back, I want to stay with Tubbo-” 

Dream snorts a laugh. “Oh, you’re not going back to that shithole. I told you. You’re going to the prison, Tommy. Weren’t you listening to me? You have to listen when I speak to you, Toms.”

“Don’t- don’t _call_ me that,” Tommy spits out.

“What, Toms?” Dream isn’t stopping. Tommy’s hands press back against the wall, searching for something, anything that he can use against Dream. “Who’s stopping me? No one’s here to protect you, Tommy. No one to die for you this time. Not Wilbur. Not Tubbo. No one.”

Tommy’s fingers brush against worn wood. “I- I’m not- I’m not going to- no, Tubbo didn’t- you killed him, _you_ killed him, not me-”

“But it was your fault, Tommy. If you had just listened to me, I wouldn’t have had to kill him.”

Tommy’s fault…

Tubbo died for Tommy.

Tubbo gave up his life for Tommy. Not just once, but countless times before.

“Tommy, I’m the only one you can trust.”

Dream had killed Tubbo to teach Tommy a lesson.

A lesson about what?

What does Dream want from him?

“You have _nothing,_ Tommy.”

Tommy’s eyes travel past Dream, locking onto Tubbo’s supine form. What would Tubbo want Tommy to do?

_“Yourself,”_ Tubbo had said when Tommy asked what was he without his Tubbo? 

Tubbo said that even without him, Tommy was still himself. 

Everything Tommy’s been through can be traced back… to _Dream._ He had fought Dream for the discs. He had fought Dream for L’manberg’s independence. He had fought Dream to keep Wilbur’s sanity intact. He had fought Dream to prevent the remnants of L’manberg from being destroyed. He had fought Dream to stay in L’manberg. He had fought Dream to break out of his manipulation. He had fought Dream in a desperate attempt to keep the only place he’s ever called home from blowing up again. He had fought Dream to keep Tubbo alive.

Ever since the beginning, Tommy had fought Dream.

_“What am I without you?”_

_“Yourself.”_

Even without Tubbo, Tommy would never- _will_ never- stop fighting back against Dream’s control.

“You’re right,” Tommy mumbles. “I have nothing.”

A smirk starts to curl across Dream’s exposed face. “Good. Now Tommy-”

Anger blazes in the pit of Tommy’s stomach. “ _Nothing._ Nothing for you to control me with.”

Dream’s eyes widen. And Tommy swings the Axe of Peace off of the wall and aims it directly at Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i'll try to update as soon as possible
> 
> heavily inspired by a theory made by @zannolin on twitter, go check them out and maybe drop them a follow
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp this is a thousand words more than i intended but at least i had fun
> 
> tw: blood, death, suicidal thoughts, manipulation

Dream stares at the axe for a moment. Tommy can feel his arms shaking with effort from holding up the massive axe. A dull ache throbs through his hand, said hand stiff and strange against the wood. Of course. He’d forgotten about the ugly hole in his hand. The worst of the pain has subsided, but it’s crusted with dried blood. Tommy can feel it cramping, growing stiffer and stiffer by the minute. Even if his hand was fine, there’s still blood coating his face from when he smashed into the bedrock. It’s a concussion at the least.

He’s in no condition to effectively wield Techno’s axe, never mind fight.

“Huh.” Dream tilts his head sideways. “You’re not going to attack me, Tommy.”

“You killed Tubbo.” Tommy tries to keep his voice steady. “You  _ killed _ him.”

Dream shakes his head. “No, Tommy. You did that. If you had listened, I wouldn’t have had to-”

“NO!” Tommy shoves the axe closer to Dream’s chest. “NO! I didn’t kill Tubbo! You’re the cause of this, you’ve always been the cause of it, every single thing I’ve gone through it’s always been  _ you! _ And now…” He adjusts his grip on the axe handle. “I’m going to end it.”

“Mmm. End it.” Dream studies the axe blade. “Alright then. Do it. ‘End it,’ Tommy.”

“I’M GOING TO!” Tommy shouts, raising the axe. “I’M GOING TO PUT THIS AXE THROUGH YOUR CHEST UNTIL YOU DON’T COME BACK! I’m- I’m going to  _ kill _ you, Dream! And I want- every time I kill you, I- I want you to-”

His voice breaks. Tommy takes a deep, steadying breath. “Every time I sink this axe into your chest, I want you to think about every single fucked up thing you’ve done to people. What you did to Wilbur. What you did to me. What you did to- to  _ Tubbo.” _

Dream nods. Tommy wavers, and the axe dips. “Alright,” Dream says calmly. “Kill me then. And while you’re killing me, Tommy? I want  _ you _ to think about how much you’re  _ fucking up _ by killing me.”

The axe dips lower. “But- but I-”

Dream moves closer, forcing himself up against the axe blade. “Tommy. End me? And you end your only chance to get Tubbo back.” 

Tubbo?

Once again, Tommy’s eyes lock on Tubbo. His brother is lying right where Dream left him, crumpled and broken. The slit in his throat is terribly exposed, a deep, unnatural opening that’s still sluggishly leaking blood. Tubbo’s so still, so motionless, so  _ lifeless… _

“T- Tubbo’s dead,” Tommy stammers. “He’s  _ gone. _ You- you killed him, he’s gone, he can’t respawn-” 

Dream laughs. “You don’t get it, do you, Tommy? You’re just as  _ stupid _ as Tubbo was. Tommy, I own this server. Do you really think I can’t bring people back?”

The axe clatters against the ground. 

“You can bring Tubbo back?” Tommy breathes. 

“Not just Tubbo.” Tommy’s forced to look up as Dream steps closer, towering over Tommy. “I could bring back anyone. I could bring back Wilbur, Tommy. Anyone who loses their third life, I could bring them back. If Technoblade dies, I could bring him back. Philza only has one life, right, Tommy? I could change that.” 

He could get Wilbur back.

He could get  _ Tubbo _ back. 

Dream always lies. 

“I… how do I even know I can trust you?” whispers Tommy. He feels small. Weak. Dream’s green eyes bore right into him, pinning him in place. 

_ Like how in exile he- _

Dream laughs. “Tommy, come with me.”

He brushes past Tommy. Tommy turns, his entire being shaking as he watches Dream stride back into the corridor branching off the side. Ignoring the objects lining the walls, Dream heads straight for the very back wall. “Wait- what are you doing?” Tommy asks weakly as Dream opens the pen that holds Friend. 

“Giving you a demonstration,” Dream answers, not looking back at Tommy. He draws out a shimmering book from the depths of his cloak, flipping it open and balancing it in his hand. Tommy flinches as Dream steps on the end of Friend’s lead, keeping the sheep in place. Then, with his free hand, Dream unsheathes his sword.

Tommy’s eyes widen as Dream raises the sword. “Wait, what are you doing- wait, please, DON’T KILL-” 

Dream slashes his sword down. Tommy screams as blade meets wool. Dream twists the sword once, and Friend’s bleat of pain cuts off abruptly. Already blood is staining Friend’s blue wool, pooling on the ground. Tommy screams again, horrified, and bolts forward. He barely gets halfway into the pen before Dream’s hand comes up and hits him in the chest. Tommy stumbles back, and Dream snarls at him. “Stay back, Tommy.” 

Tommy reacts automatically to the order, freezing in place. As he watches, Dream hefts the book and starts to chant. Tommy can’t make sense of the words, but it sounds… familiar. Ancient and rhythmic. Tommy watches in morbid fascination as Dream continues chanting, hovering his hand just over Friend’s wool. 

Dream snaps the book shut. 

“You- you killed Friend,” Tommy mumbles, staring in shock at Friend’s limp form.

“Watch.” Dream still doesn’t look at Tommy, focusing intently on Friend. 

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then Friend moves. Stands up. Bleats at Dream and scampers towards the back of the pen. There’s no sign of the bloody wound Dream had left barely a minute ago.

Shock clouds over Tommy’s mind. “W- what?”

For the first time since going over to Friend, Dream looks at him. “I’m not lying, Tommy. I can bring  _ anyone _ back. Even Tubbo.” 

He could get Tubbo back. 

Tommy could get Tubbo back.

He could fix the gash in Tubbo’s throat, put the lucidity back in Tubbo’s eyes.

All the apologies that had spilled out of Tommy’s mouth…

Tubbo could hear them. 

Dream steps closer to Tommy, and Tommy shrinks back. “You’re going to come with me, Tommy. You’re going to come  _ quietly. _ Without a fuss. You’re going to come with me, and you’re going into the prison. And Tommy?”

Dream snatches Tommy’s hand, fingers digging cruelly into the bloodied wound. Ignoring Tommy’s cry of pain, Dream leans down to stare straight into Tommy’s eyes. “The book has the spell. Without the book, I can’t bring people back. If you even  _ think  _ about trying to escape- if you fight back, struggle, try to get help- I’m going to burn the book.” 

Tommy whimpers, trying to tug his hand away from Dream. Dream forces his fingers deeper into the hole, and Tommy’s vision goes white as he shrieks in pain. “ _ Do you understand,  _ Tommy?” Dream hisses.

“YES! Yes, I understand, I won’t fight, I won’t try to escape, I’ll be good, I promise, I promise, I  _ promise, _ please, please let go, please, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, Dream, I’m sorry-” 

Dream releases his hand. Tommy collapses, cradling his hand to his body as a sob of pain rises from his chest. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll go with you, just- please don’t burn the book. Please, please,  _ please.” _

“Good.” Dream’s fingers are working through Tommy’s hair again. Tommy flinches away from the touch but Dream’s hand moves with him, staying entwined in his hair. “Come on, Tommy. It’s time for you to go.”

_ “It’s time for Tubbo to go.” _

Tommy stands up slowly, still clutching his hand to his chest. Dream smirks. “Alright. Let’s go, Tommy.” 

Dream strides briskly towards the portal, pushing his mask back down over his face. Tommy trails behind him. He falters over Tubbo’s- over Tubbo’s body. “What about Tubbo? I- I’m not leaving Tubbo…” 

“Tubbo’s going to stay here.” Dream glances back. “Not like he’s going anywhere. Don’t  _ worry _ so much, Toms. He’ll be taken care of when the time comes. Don’t you trust me?”

Tommy stays silent. Dream nods. “That’s what I thought. Come on. Into the portal.”

Keeping his head lowered, Tommy complies, stepping into the portal next to Dream. Just before the portal whisks them away, Tommy looks back at Tubbo.

He looks so  _ small. _ A bloodied boy lying in a heap on bloodstained blackstone, eyes wide and blank. 

Purple whorls take over Tommy’s vision. He squeezes his eyes shut, and a blast of heat hits him. The Nether. He’s in the Nether. And Tubbo is still lying dead in that room. 

“Stay close to me.” Dream pulls Tommy out of the portal, not bothering to be gentle. “Don’t antagonize any mobs. Can’t having you dying now, not after everything I’ve done to keep you alive.”

Tommy obliges, letting Dream lead him through the Nether. He doesn’t fight. He doesn’t try to resist. He doesn’t try to escape. Occasionally a mob attacks them; Dream takes out every one with ease. He doesn’t let any of them get close to Tommy. The closest Tommy gets to dying is when a skeleton’s arrow pierces through his shoulder. Tommy staggers with a cry of pain, and Dream beheads the monster before it can shoot again. Dream turns to Tommy. “Show me.”

Without protest, Tommy lowers his uninjured hand from his shoulder. Dream examines the arrow for a minute, then yanks it out unceremoniously. Tommy gasps, black spots bursting in front of his eyes, and Dream drops the arrow. He studies the wound for another moment, then straightens up. “You’ll be fine. Come on, Tommy. Still got a ways to go.”

Once again, Tommy follows. Blood drips steadily from his shoulder, sizzling against the hot netherrack. The heat of the Nether is almost unbearable. Tommy can feel himself growing lightheaded, can feel his mouth drying, can feel the sharp sting every time his bare skin brushes netherrack. He can’t afford to pass out. Not now. If he does, then Dream could get mad. Dream could get mad and burn the book. No. Tommy has to keep going. For Tubbo. 

Dream leads him towards a cobblestone bridge, and Tommy realizes that he knows where they are. That’s the portal that leads to L’manberg.

Dream actually plans to put him in the prison. 

Tommy glances over the edge of the bridge. The lava lake bubbles cheerfully underneath it. Exactly how it was the last time Tommy stood here. 

It would be painless. 

Dream wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Then… then maybe Tommy would see Tubbo again.

He wouldn’t be under Dream’s thumb anymore.

And Tommy could be with Tubbo again.

Slowly, Tommy takes a step towards the lava.

“Tommy.”

Tommy freezes. Dream’s tone is scolding. Condescending. Disapproving. No. No, he’s been caught, no, no,  _ no- _

“Tommy, step away from the lava.”

Tommy stares down into the lava. “You can’t stop me.”

Dream sighs. “Tommy, if you jump into that lava, I’ll revive you. And as soon as you’re back, I’ll burn the book. And you’ll never see Tubbo again. I only need  _ you _ alive, Tommy. You either come with me willingly and get your Tubbo back, or try to escape and lose Tubbo forever. Weigh your options carefully.”

Even if he jumps, Dream will just bring him back. And after he does that, he’ll burn the book. Tommy’ll lose his only chance of seeing Tubbo again. 

He can’t lose Tubbo.

Whatever happens, Tubbo must come out of it alive. 

Tommy tears his eyes away from the lava and slowly walks towards Dream. “I- I’m sorry. I won’t try it again. Just please don’t burn the book.”

Dream hums. “Yes. You’re not going to try it again. Because if you do, the book is going in the lava.”

He turns and continues on to the portal. He doesn’t even look back to see if Tommy follows him. And yet, Tommy follows him anyways. He has no choice. Dream has the key to getting Tubbo back. 

So Tommy follows him.

The cool breeze of the Overworld is refreshing. Tommy hesitates for a moment, letting the fresh air wash over him. It feels nice, cool against Tommy’s wounds. 

Dream squeezes Tommy’s uninjured shoulder. “Come on, Tommy. We’re not at the prison yet.” 

Tommy nods numbly. Dream’s hand stays on his shoulder, guiding him through the SMP. Through the remains of the community house. Down the Prime Path. Through the destroyed remnants of L’manberg. Past Skeppy and Bad’s house. Towards the prison. 

The prison…

It’s bigger than Tommy remembered. Massive blackstone walls loom over the water, casting shadows over everything under them. Lava drips down the walls, glowing eerily against obsidian. It’s  _ huge. _ Maybe thirty or forty feet tall. Huge and utterly inescapable. Already, Tommy can feel his limbs growing heavy and weak, the fatigue delivered by Elder Guardians. 

Balking against Dream’s hand, Tommy shakes his head. “Wait- please, I don’t- do I have to? Dream, I don’t- I really don’t-”

“Don’t what, Tommy?” Dream’s hand tightens on his shoulder. “Don’t want to go into the prison? You know you have to. If you don’t, the book burns. And with it, your last chance of seeing Tubbo.” 

Tommy stops struggling. 

“Good.” Dream pushes Tommy forward, into the blackstone room. Tommy shivers, watching Dream press a button on the wall and tap something into the communicator at his wrist. The coolness of the Overworld was nice. But the prison is just… cold. Tommy can’t explain it. It just feels cold, the chill biting through his clothes. 

He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to be stuck here for who knows how long, trapped until Dream decides Tommy could be of some use. 

But the risk of losing Tubbo is too great.

There’s a sudden click of pistons. Tommy flinches, but a section of the wall simply pulls back. Dream steps back, and a portal whooshes into existence. Tommy stares, wide-eyed, and Dream chuckles. “Come on, Tommy. Into the portal.” 

Tommy obeys without much thought. How did the portal do that? What did Dream do? Does pressing that button make it work? But it would be next to impossible to properly set that up, even with a limitless supply of redstone. It’s impossible to light a portal without some sort of fire-

They exit the portal into another, practically identical room. Tommy blinks. “What- but how-”

“We’ve spent a long time on this, Tommy.” Dream sounds pleased. “Of course, it wasn’t initially meant for you. We started construction back when you were still safely out of the way in exile. I was foolish enough to think you’d stay there.” He snorts. “The prison was meant to hold someone much more powerful and dangerous than you, Tommy. You won’t be in the main cell, but you won’t be escaping either.”

Dream glances down at his wrist. “Alright. Back through the portal.”

Once again, Tommy obeys, mind whirling. If the prison wasn’t meant for him, then who was it meant for? Techno? But Technoblade’s on Dream’s side. He made that much clear when he attacked L’manberg. When he killed Tommy over and over again just to prove a point. The prison couldn’t have been made for Philza either; he’s also on Dream’s side. He too made that clear, spawning wither after wither in L’manberg and sniping people from the rooftops. 

So who was it meant for?

The next room is brighter. Tommy winces and closes his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden light. Dream gives him a small push out of the portal, and Tommy stumbles forward. 

“You’ve brought a prisoner?” 

Tommy’s eyes snap open. “Sam?”

Sure enough, the creeper hybrid stands in front of him, black mask obscuring his face. Relief washes over Tommy. Sam can help him. Sam visited him in exile, saying that Tommy could stay at his house. Sam’s never been unkind to him. Surely Sam could take on Dream. He’s certainly bigger than Dream, and the broadsword at his back gleams suggestively. Sam can get Tommy out. Sam can keep Dream from burning the book. Then Tommy can take Sam to Tubbo and they can revive him-

“I’ve brought a prisoner.” Tommy can practically hear the smirk in Dream’s voice. “Sam, please escort Tommy to his cell.”

“What?” Tommy looks back and forth between Sam and Dream. “Wait- but Sam- Sam, you’re not actually on his- Sam?”

Sam’s expression is unreadable. “Do you have any belongings on you?”

Tommy’s gut frosts over. No. No, if Sam’s not going to help him-

Dream answers for Tommy. “No, he doesn’t.”

Sam nods curtly and turns back to Tommy. “Walk into this hallway, please.” 

“Wait,” Tommy stammers. “Wait, Sam- Sam, I thought- wait, Sam, please don’t, please, please don’t…” 

Dream’s hand is on his shoulder again, but this time it’s his injured shoulder. His fingers dig into the wound, and Tommy gasps in pain. “Come on, Tommy. I don’t want to kill you. But I will. I can always bring you back.”

The threat doesn’t have to be spoken for Tommy to understand it. If Dream kills Tommy, as soon as he brings him back, Dream’ll burn the book.

Tommy can’t let that happen.

Tommy backs into the hallway, casting a desperate look at Sam. Please. Sam can help him. With Sam’s help, he could escape Dream and still get Tubbo back-

The wall slides up, blocking Sam and Dream from Tommy’s view. Tommy presses his hand against the wall. He supposes if this is the cell, it isn’t too bad. There’s a bed in the wall. Maybe Tommy can destroy it, starve himself to death, and respawn at spawn. But Dream’ll just come after him, won’t he?

“Hit the bed, please.” Sam’s voice come from his side. Tommy glances over and sees Sam and Dream standing on the other side of a glass wall. Dream wiggles his fingers at Tommy. 

“Well- why? What’s going to happen?” Maybe if he can stall long enough-

“Hit the bed please, Tommy.”

Reluctantly, Tommy kicks the bed with one foot. “There. Are you happy now-”

“Now step on to the blue blocks.” Sam’s voice remains void of emotions. When Tommy does, Sam reaches out and pulls a lever on the wall.

Immediately the blocks around Tommy rise, trapping him in place. There’s no time for Tommy to react before potions splash down on his head. Tommy yelps in pain, raising his arms in a futile defense. Potions of harming. No, no, no, he’s going to die, the potions are scalding his skin, he can’t breathe-

Tommy gasps awake. Alive. Not permanently dead. Not in a bed either. He struggles to his feet, frantically looking around. He’s at the end of a different hallway. Sam and Dream stand a couple yards away, in the same hallway as him this time. Dream tilts his head. “Huh. I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Sam ignores him. “You can come here, Tommy.”

Tommy does so, glancing warily back at the obsidian wall and rubbing his arm. He  _ died. _ It wasn’t his last life, but he still died. Dream’s willing to risk getting Tommy killed permanently to get Tommy into this prison. At least the death helped stitch up some of the more artificial wounds. The wound in his shoulder aches less, and Tommy’s head feels clearer, no longer pounding and fuzzy like it had been after he smacked against the bedrock. 

It didn’t do anything for the gaping hole in his hand.

Sam pulls another lever, and Tommy flinches in anticipation. But the searing pain of potions he expects doesn’t come. Instead, there’s the clicking of shifting pistons. “Stay clear of the moving mechanisms,” Sam says calmly. “Don’t want them malfunctioning.” 

Slowly, Tommy looks over the edge of the chasm at the end of the hallway as pistons keep shifting. From the bottom of the chasm, the floor is rising. It’s steadily making its way up to where Sam, Dream, and Tommy stand. 

Dream chuckles. “You did good with this place, Sam.”

“Hm.” Sam tests the now-risen floor with his foot and nods to himself. “Right this way, please.” 

Sam walks forward without looking back to see if either Tommy or Dream follow. Tommy hesitates, and Dream nudges him. “Come on, Tommy,” Dream says. He sounds so… relaxed. Confident. “Just a little bit further. It’ll be over for you soon.” Dream chuckles. “Or at least, until I need you again.”

He’ll be back under Dream’s control. 

Tommy follows Sam, moving as slowly as Dream allows him to. The hallway is short, and Tommy tries to make it last as long as possible. He doesn’t want to go into the prison. His efforts aren’t enough. Dream keeps Tommy moving forward, guiding him into a massive room. The blackstone walls tower high above their heads.

_ Blackstone. _

_ They’re deep enough in the mountain that Tommy can see patches of bedrock scattered among the blackstone. _

_ He scrambles for purchase against the blackstone. _

_ Blood pools over blackstone, staining the dark stone. _

The faintest of whimpers escapes Tommy’s mouth. Behind him, Dream huffs a laugh. “I’d get used to it if I were you,” he says airily. “You’re going to be spending a lot of time here, Tommy.”

Briefly, Tommy considers bolting back and throwing himself into the lava now taking place of the hallway’s floor. Snatching the bloodied dagger sheathed at Dream’s hip and driving it into his own stomach. Attacking Sam and forcing the older man to go on the defensive and kill him. Tommy doesn’t want to be in this room for another second, much less…

He has no idea how long Dream’s going to make him stay here. It could be days. Weeks. Months.

Years.

Dream could make him stay here for years, Tommy could be stuck here for years, he wouldn’t see Tubbo for  _ years- _

Pistons click, and the iron panels in the wall shift and slide away. Another door. Sam motions for them to move forwards, and pulls down a lever before walking through himself. Tommy glances back at Dream, who sweeps out his arm towards the doorway in an exaggerated gesture. “Go ahead, Tommy. Into my prison.”

Tommy swallows hard and follows Sam into the next section of the prison. 

It’s even bigger than the last room. Cells line the wall. Each one blocked with an iron door. Each one lined with obsidian. Tommy stumbles slightly, a new wave of fatigue hitting him like a truck. He wouldn’t be able to break so much as a dirt block, much less a bed or the obsidian. Even if he was somehow able to, Tommy can hear the familiar bubble of lava. Once inside a cell, the chances of him successfully escaping would be nil.

He needs to escape  _ now. _

Tommy whirls and slams his fist into Dream’s mask. Instantly pain shoots through his wrist, but he doesn’t care. As Dream staggers back with a grunt of pain, Tommy makes a grab for the dagger. The moment his fingers close around it, Tommy slashes it up at Dream’s body. He doesn’t wait to see if the blow connects and bolts for the door-

With a clicking of pistons, the iron panels slide together.

Closing the door.

“NO!” Tommy shrieks, hurling himself at the door. Frantically he jams the tip of the dagger in between the panels, trying desperately to pry them open. No, no, no, he can’t be stuck here, he has to escape, he  _ has to- _

A hand closes tightly around his wrist, forcing him to drop the dagger. Tommy wails in despair and terror, and thrashes wildly in Sam’s grip. Sam doesn’t loosen his hold. He deftly catches Tommy’s other wrist, pinning Tommy’s arms back with one hand. Cold metal touches his back, right against his spine, and Tommy sobs. 

He failed.

He failed to escape.

Tommy tried to escape and failed, he tried to fight, he attacked Dream- 

Dream. 

“Oh, Tommy,” Dream says slowly, voice full of disappointment.

Tommy’s knees give out on him. He sags in Sam’s grip, sobs racking his body. His escape attempt failed. He couldn’t get out. Tommy’s back under Dream’s control. Sam isn’t going to help him. Tommy lost the only chance he had, and now Dream’s going to burn the book. He’s going to burn the book, and Tommy will never see Tubbo again.

Tommy hadn’t even thought of Tubbo when he ran. His only thought had been survival. He knows he won’t survive long here. Without thought of others, Tommy had tried to flee.

Tubbo was right. Tommy is selfish. 

Dream crouches in front of him. “You tried to escape, Tommy.”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy’s voice shakes. “I’m sorry, please, I really am, just don’t…”

“Don’t what? Burn the book?”

Tommy drops his eyes down. “Please.”

“Tommy, you took a  _ dagger _ and tried to cut me open! Do you really think you’re going to get away with that?” Dream reaches out, catching Tommy’s chin and forcing Tommy to look at him. “You need to be taught a lesson, Tommy.” 

He’s going to burn the book. He’s going to burn the book, and Tubbo will be gone. Tubbo will stay dead and he won’t come back. Tommy will never see him again.

“Dream. Stop.”

Dream looks up at the sound of Sam’s voice. He releases Tommy and draws himself up to his full height. When Dream speaks, his voice is low and dangerous. “What?”

“My job is to keep prisoners inside the prison. Inside cells. And Tommy,” Sam inclines his head, “is not inside a cell. If you’d let me do my job, please.”

For a long moment, no one moves or speaks, the silence only broken by Tommy’s labored breathing. Anger radiates off Dream in waves. Sam, on the other hand, seems perfectly calm. The tip of his sword leaves Tommy’s spine, and Tommy flinches involuntarily. If they fight, he’ll be caught in the middle of it. All it takes is the wrong move and Tommy will be killed.

Then Dream dips his head. It’s a small movement, barely perceptible, but the message is clear. Sam lowers his sword. “Thank you,” he says calmly. Tommy feels himself get pulled to his feet, and Sam releases his grip on Tommy’s wrists. “Into this room please, Tommy.”

Tommy does as he’s told, still shaking with leftover adrenaline. The room certainly isn’t a cell. There’d a bed in the corner, which means…

“Hit the bed, please.” Sam reaches over and flicks a lever. Tommy obliges, hitting the bed and watching Sam warily. Sam motions towards glass blocks on the floor. “Step on the glass blocks.”

Once again, Tommy follows Sam’s orders and braces himself for the onslaught of potions that’s sure to come. It won’t be a permanent death, based on what happened last time. Between that and Dream’s book, Tommy won’t stay dead after the potions crash on to his head-

Sam steps in front of him. “I’m going to submit you to a manual search. Please hold still.”

Tommy falters. “Manual search-”

Sam drives his sword through Tommy’s abdomen. The only noise Tommy can make is a soft gasp as blood flows from the wound. Sam pulls out the sword and Tommy collapses, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. 

He wakes up in the bed. Tommy lets out a choked noise, clutching at the spot where Sam’s broadsword had impaled him. All that remains of the injury is a scar. He’s fine. He’s alive. 

Sam had  _ killed _ him.

The creeper hybrid offers him a hand, and Tommy can’t help his automatic flinch. Sam waits patiently, waiting for Tommy to accept his hand before helping him out of the bed. His sword is back in its scabbard on Sam’s back, but it doesn’t reassure Tommy. Sam could just as easily kill him without a weapon. 

“This way please, Tommy,” Sam says calmly. Tommy follows him out of the room, back into the hall where Dream waits. The scar over his stomach twinges, and Tommy winces, gently rubbing the scar. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed by Dream, and Dream snickers. Tommy hunches his shoulders, avoiding eye contact with Dream.

Even if Tommy had lost his third life, even if he had found Tubbo in whatever comes after death, Dream would have just brought him back. 

Sam stops in front of a cell door and drops something on the floor. To Tommy’s surprise, the object sinks straight through the floor. It doesn’t seem to surprise Sam though. Nor does it surprise him when the iron door swings open without warning, although Tommy jumps at the sudden movement. 

“Walk into the cell, please.” Sam’s voice carefully stays flat. 

Fear and panic washes over Tommy, overwhelming any other emotions. No, no, no. He doesn’t want to go into the prison. Tommy turns to Dream, hands trembling. “W-wait… please, I don’t want- I don’t want to- please don’t make me go in there, please…”

Dream strides forward. Right in front of Tommy, he stops and pushes up his mask just enough for Tommy to see his smirk. “It won’t be  _ bad, _ Tommy. You’ll just be safely locked away until I need you again. Come on, Tommy, don’t you trust me?”

No. He doesn’t. Dream always lies. 

But Dream is his friend right? Dream was the only one who visited him in exile. Tommy trusts his friends.

Dream blew up his belongings over and over again.

Dream helped him mine for equipment.

Dream kept him from his family.

Dream let him visit L’manberg.

Dream drove Tommy to near suicide.

Dream prevented Tommy from jumping into the lava.

Dream said Tubbo didn’t care about Tommy.

Dream said Tubbo destroyed the compass.

Dream killed Tubbo.

Dream killed Tubbo, and said it was Tommy’s fault.

_ Dream always lies. _

The iron door swings shut with a resounding  _ clang. _

A satisfied smile spreads across Dream’s face. “That’s it,” he drawls. “Stay here, Tommy. Be good for Sam. Or the book burns.” 

Numbly, Tommy watches as the two men walk back towards the iron panels. Sam pulls a lever, and the panels slide apart. They’re leaving. They’re leaving him here. They’re leaving him in this cell, he’ll be alone-

The iron panels click shut, leaving Tommy alone in the cell. 

Alone.

Tommy sniffs once. Then he crumples in on himself, buries his head in his knees, and sobs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHA YOU THOUGHT I'D REALLY LET TOMMY GET AWAY? OH NO I PROMISED PAIN AND IM GONNA DELIVER
> 
> "dream always lies" yes i know it's from atla, no i did not realize it until i was proofreading
> 
> it might take longer for me to get the next chapter out, but i'll try my best
> 
> potential fourth chapter? it depends on whether you want pure pain or if you want slightly less pain :)
> 
> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy im back
> 
> tw: blood, mentions of death, manipulation

He lost.

Tommy  _ lost. _

L’manberg. Phil. Techno. Wilbur. Tubbo.

He lost them all. 

Dream has Tommy in his clutches again.

Tommy stays huddled up on the floor all night, sobs racking his body. On occasion they peter out, but they always return. Return out of sorrow. Out of regret. Out of fear. Out of grief. 

Tubbo is gone. Wilbur is gone. Techno and Phil hate him. Quackity almost certainly isn’t on Tommy’s side. Niki seemed angry at him, although Tommy doesn’t know why. Fundy went insane, laughing wildly as L’manberg exploded. Ranboo’s petrified of Dream, making the chances of him coming for Tommy close to zero. Eret’s a traitor. Sam sided with Dream. No one will help Tommy.

Just like in exile.

And just like in exile, he knows that Dream will come to check on him.

No. Not check on him. Dream doesn’t care about Tommy. He won’t come to check on Tommy, but rather watch, to monitor- 

A new wave of sobs threatens to overtake Tommy. He clamps his mouth shut, trying to keep them back, but it doesn’t work. Tears drip freely from his eyes, and Tommy digs his nails into his palms.

Right into the still open wound.

White-hot agony races up Tommy’s arm. A scream rises in Tommy’s throat and he fails to choke it back. He curls up tighter, clutching his hand to his chest in a backwards attempt to quell the pain. It hurts. It hurts  _ so much. _

He whimpers quietly, pain throbbing through his hand. Even that small sound echoes within the cell. 

Everything is so quiet, so still...

Tommy stumbles to his feet, keeping his hand tightly pulled against his body. He can’t deal with this silence, this stagnant stillness that’s sank over the cell. Even in exile, there was still the rhythmic sound of waves lapping against sand, the gentle  _ shhh _ of wind whispering across the plains, the hums of villagers nearby, the growl of mobs hunting. Here, there’s simply nothing. 

_ He used to hear Tubbo’s voice, echoing softly in the wind. You are hereby exiled from L’manberg. _

Awkwardly, Tommy opens up the chest shoved into the corner. It’s filled with books, a quill and an inkpot resting next to the chest. Tommy stares at them for a moment. What is he supposed to do with them? Write? Write about what?

_ Ranboo used to leave him notes in a book, scrawled neatly across the pages. _

What the fuck does Dream want him to write about?

_ When Dream had discovered the books from Ranboo, he’d tossed them into a hole and dropped a piece of TNT in with them. You can’t do that, Tommy. _

Tommy snatches a book, and hurls it. 

_ You need to start over, Tommy. No more visits. No more Nether. No more armor.  _

It hits the door with a satisfying  _ thunk. _

_ Think about what you did. _

Rage flares in the pit of Tommy’s stomach. Dream did this to him. Dream  _ manipulated _ him. He had stolen the discs, he had orchestrated the war for L’manberg, he had driven Wilbur insane, he had forced Tubbo to exile Tommy, he had tried to convince Tommy that he was Tommy’s only friend, he had blown up L’manberg, he had killed Tubbo-

A violent, guttural scream erupts from Tommy’s mouth and he throws another book. Then another, and another, and another. Book after book, hurled at the wall, the door, the pool of water in the corner, anywhere Tommy can reach.

_ Thunk. _

For Ranboo, shattered and lost.

_ Thunk. _

For Fundy, following the path of his father.

_ Thunk. _

For Niki, driven mad by grief.

_ Thunk. _

For Philza, permanently grounded thanks to Dream’s sword.

_ Thunk. _

For Technoblade, forcibly removing himself from the violence and getting dragged into it anyways.

_ Thunk. _

For Wilbur, stretched until he snapped.

_ Thunk. _

For Tubbo. Giving up his life for Tommy. 

_ Thunk. _

For Tubbo. 

His fingers scrape against wood. Tommy screams again, forcing it out through a raw and hoarse throat, and slams his foot into the side of the empty chest. The wood splinters and he kicks it again, kicking it until it’s barely more than a pile of wood shards. 

With nothing left to demolish, the rampage stops. Tommy stands stock-still in the center of the cell, dry sobs making his chest heave. Books are scattered around him, strewn across the floor. Ghostbur would’ve been distressed if he saw the state of the books. None of them are in good condition anymore, stained with ink and water, pages ripped out, leather covers torn half off, splayed open carelessly.

Tubbo would’ve been quietly regretful. Then he would have smiled and started cleaning up.

Tommy shifts his weight hesitantly, and a sliver of wood crunches under his foot.

He destroyed his cell.

Oh, Prime.

Dream’s going to be so  _ disappointed _ in him.

A wave of guilt crashes over Tommy. He’s going to disappoint Dream. Dream trusted him. Dream told him to be good. Dream gave him books to write in, a quill and an inkpot to write with, and what did Tommy do? 

Immediately destroy them. 

_ Ungrateful. _

_ Worthless. _

_ Selfish. _

If Dream visits and discovers that Tommy wrecked the cell, he might not visit again. He might leave Tommy alone in this cell, completely shut him off from the world. Dream might respond to Tommy’s betrayal with abandonment. Tommy would be alone.

He doesn’t want to be alone.

Dream  _ cannot _ find out. 

When Sam raps sharply on the door and enters the cell, he finds a sixteen year old boy kneeling amidst splinters and ripped pages, desperately trying to clean it up. Tommy’s head snaps up at the sudden noise and he looks at Sam, tears streaming down his face. A deer caught in headlights. “Please.” His voice cracks. “P- please, don’t- Dream can’t find out…” 

“You destroyed the books,” Sam notes. Once again, his voice is flat and devoid of emotion. 

Tommy’s hands shake as he tries to gather up the fragments of wood. “Please, if Dream finds out- he’ll leave- please don’t tell him-”

Sam surveys the scene. “If Dream asks, I’m going to have to tell him.”

Breath hitching, Tommy shakes his head frantically. “No, no, no, please, Sam-”

“You will call me the Warden,” Sam interrupts. There’s something different in his voice now, something Tommy can’t place. “Stay where you are, please. If you try to escape, I will not hesitate to use force.” 

Tommy lowers his head, sinking fully to the ground. Sam studies him for a moment, then starts moving around the cell, picking up the remains of the ruined chest and the abused books. He deposits them in a neat pile in the corner, and Tommy’s heart sinks. Sam’s leaving the debris. He’s leaving it exposed in the corner, for anyone to see. There’s nothing to hide it with. Even if Sam doesn’t tell Dream, Dream’s going to find out anyways. Dream’s going to find out, and when he does he won’t visit Tommy again, he’ll make sure no one visits Tommy, Tommy will be completely and utterly alone-

Sam’s boots stop in front of him, and Tommy flinches involuntarily. But all Sam does is stoop down and drop two potatoes in Tommy’s lap. “This will be your food. I’d advice you to eat it. If you starve yourself to death, you will respawn right back in your cell. I will come once a day with food and water.” He sets down a plastic water bottle next to Tommy and straightens up. “I’ve confiscated the larger pieces of wood. You won’t get another chest or more books unless Dream tells me you’re allowed to have them again.”

Sam starts towards the door, and a jolt of panic shoots through Tommy. Sam’s leaving. If Sam leaves, he’s going to be alone again. “Wait- wait, Sam, please- I don’t want-” Voice breaking, Tommy looks down. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispers. 

For a split second, Tommy thinks he sees Sam hesitate.

The iron door clicks shut behind him. The only evidence that Sam ever came is the potatoes, the water bottle, and the tidy pile of paper and wood. 

Tommy’s alone again.

The silence is stifling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise im not turning into one of those writers that doesnt know when to stop, i promise im just splitting chapters lol
> 
> that being said, this chapter was initially part of a much longer chapter. ive decided to split that longer chapter into three chapters, so this and the next two chapters will be a bit shorter than usual
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am back with more pain
> 
> i roped my friend into helping me edit this, so KUDOS TO YOU FRIEND-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED
> 
> tw: blood, mention of death, suicidal thoughts, manipulation, self harm

He’s been in the cell for four days. 

Each day is marked with a new cut gouged out on his arm. With the books destroyed and the obsidian impossible to carve into, it’s the only way Tommy can keep track of the days. His forearm aches dully, but Tommy’s fingernails aren’t enough to cause serious damage. 

Even if he wanted to, even if he dug his nails into the veins in his wrist, he’d just respawn right back here. And then Dream would burn the book. And Tommy would never see his Tubbo again. 

There’s a routine, in the prison. The clock fixed to the wall gives Tommy a somewhat accurate sense of time, so it’s not hard to mark when things happen. Every morning at dawn, Sam comes. Most times, he enters the cell. But sometimes he doesn’t. Every time, he gives Tommy two potatoes and a water bottle. Every time, he collects the empty water bottle and whatever remains of the potatoes. Every time, Tommy asks for Sam to stay and every time, Sam leaves wordlessly. Then Tommy’s left alone until Sam comes back the next morning. 

The routine is nice. Sam is steady in the schedule, never missing a day, never a minute late. Tommy prefers this dependability over Dream’s unpredictability. Back in exile, he never knew when Dream was going to come. It kept Tommy constantly on his toes, constantly wary and scared that Dream would discover the hidden chests. Tommy’s almost relieved that Sam is the one taking care of his food, not Dream.

He’s confused and slightly apprehensive when Sam comes back at noon, something he hasn’t done before.

But Tommy’s absolutely terrified when he sees Dream trailing behind Sam. 

Tommy scrambles to his feet, fear overtaking his senses. His vision swirls, head spinning at the sudden movement, and Tommy stumbles. No, no, no. This isn’t part of the routine. Dream shouldn’t be here. It’s midday, Tommy’s supposed to be alone right now, Dream isn’t supposed to be here, Tommy’s supposed to be safe here- 

_ Please let him be here for something else. _

Sam stops in front of Tommy’s cell. “You have a visitor, Tommy.” No. No, no, no, no.

The iron door swings open. Tommy backs all the way into the wall, and Dream walks into the cell.

_ Please. _

The door shuts behind him. Trapping Tommy in the cell with Dream. 

For a long moment, the silence is broken only by Tommy’s labored breathing. Then Dream pushes up his mask and smiles brightly at Tommy. “Hey, Toms.”

“Why are you here?” Tommy blurts out without thinking. “Why-”

He clamps his hand over his mouth. Dream tilts his head sideways. “Can’t I just visit you? We’re friends. Friends visit each other. I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Tommy stays silent, instinct the only thing keeping his hand over his mouth. Some deep rooted instinct, telling him that he can’t betray his fear. He can’t let Dream see that Tommy’s scared, scared of  _ Dream. _ It would be another way for Dream to use him. Another way for Dream to control him.

Dream sighs. “If you don’t want to see me, I can just leave. I have better things to do anyways.” He turns and takes a deep breath like he’s about to call for Sam.

Tommy will be alone again.

“WAIT!” Tommy yelps. Dream glances at him, and Tommy shrinks back. “Wait, please- please don’t- I don’t want you to leave…”

The smirk that curls across Dream’s face is terrifying. Tommy drops his eyes to the ground and slowly slides down the wall. He doesn’t want Dream here. Dream isn’t his friend. Dream will only manipulate him.

But… Dream is the only one who’s visited him. In four days. Tommy doesn’t count Sam as a visitor. In four days, no one but Dream has come to visit him. 

Tommy doesn’t want to be alone. Not after this tease of interaction with someone other than Sam. 

Dream sits cross-legged in front of Tommy. He looked relaxed, at ease. “You didn’t like the books?”

“The fuck did you want me to do with them?” Tommy mutters. A hint of bitterness creeps into his voice. “There’s nothing to write about.” 

To his surprise, Dream laughs. “There he is.” 

The abrupt cheeriness makes Tommy nervous, and he presses farther back into the wall. “What? What do you mean, ‘there he is?’”

Dream settles back, still grinning broadly. “The old Tommy. The  _ fun _ Tommy. You used to fight, you used to snap back at anything I said.” A contemplative look drifts across his face. “You’re still fun, Tommy. It’s just a different kind of fun.” 

Fun.

Dream views Tommy as fun. 

“Was Tubbo  _ fun _ for you too?”

As soon as he says it, Tommy regrets it. He shouldn’t have mentioned Tubbo. Dream might get mad. Dream might get mad, and he might leave, and he might not come back. 

Dream is eerily still for a minute. Then he says, “Tommy, hold out your hand.” 

Tommy tenses, bracing himself for some sort of punishment. Slowly, he extends his hand, palm up. Dream’s hand closes over his, and Tommy flinches in anticipation. Cold fingertips rub gently over the wound in Tommy’s hand. “This still hasn’t healed.” 

Still coiled like a spring and ready to yank his hand away at a moment’s notice, Tommy nods tightly. 

“Hm.” Dream lightly presses on the center of the wound, and Tommy gasps in pain. Reflexively he tries to tug away, but Dream’s grip tightens, keeping his hand in place. “We’ll have to take care of that,” Dream mutters absentmindedly. “Hold still.”

Still keeping a tight hold on Tommy’s hand, Dream reaches into his pocket and draws out a shimmering bottle. Somewhat awkwardly, he unstoppers it, managing not to spill a drop of the potion. “It wouldn’t be this bad if you hadn’t struggled,” Dream says conversationally. “Ripping up through the dagger was probably the biggest mistake, you caused a lot more damage than you would have if you just pulled the dagger out first.” The detached way Dream talks about the wound is unnerving. He tilts the bottle, drizzling the potion over Tommy’s hand. Tommy winces at the sting, but doesn’t try to pull away. 

“Does… does anyone else know?” Tommy asks after a moment’s hesitation, carefully keeping his voice quiet and subdued. 

Dream doesn’t pause in his work, using his finger to rub the potion deeper into the ragged edges of the wound. “Know what? That you’re here? Of course they do, Tommy. What, have none of them-”

“No,” Tommy cuts him off. “Tubbo. Do they know about Tubbo?”

Dream’s hands go still. 

A haze of numbness settles over Tommy’s mind. “You didn’t tell them,” he whispers. 

The porcelain, smiling mask is still pushed up. But there’s a new kind of mask over Dream, a mask that transforms his face into cold, hard lines. “They know what they need to know, Tommy.” 

“You didn’t  _ tell _ them.” Dream’s hand is still on his, dangerously close to the bloody hole in Tommy’s hand. Tommy tries to jerk his hand away, but Dream’s grip remains firm. “They don’t- they don’t know that he’s-”

“Tommy.” Dream’s voice takes on a warning tone. Sharp and dangerous.

Anger lances through the haze in Tommy’s mind. “You didn’t TELL them!”

He rips his hand out of Dream’s hold and shoots to his feet. Dream rises as well. A sliver of fear slips down Tommy’s spine as Dream looms over him. But rage is flooding through him, stronger than any fear of Dream. Dream didn’t tell them. Dream  _ didn’t tell them. _

Dream reaches towards Tommy. “Look, Toms-”

“NO!” Tommy shouts, shoving Dream’s hand away. “YOU DIDN’T TELL THEM!” 

Dream’s eyes harden. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Tommy.”

“YOU DIDN’T TELL THEM ABOUT TUBBO!” Tommy’s voice rises in pitch. “YOU DIDN’T TELL THEM THAT YOU KI-” 

_ Tubbo, hugging him. _

_ Tubbo, quietly saying that it would be okay. _

_ Tubbo, tears streaming down his face as Dream yanked his head back. _

_ Tubbo, blood pouring from the slit in his throat. _

_ Tubbo, eyes dull and lifeless as Tommy wept into his chest. _

The words stick in his throat. Tommy can feel the sobs building up in his chest again, desperately trying to break free. He grits his teeth, trying to force them back. When Tommy next speaks, his voice is hollow and broken. “Y-you didn’t tell them that you  _ killed _ him.”

“They don’t need to know the reasons for Tubbo’s unexpected absence,” Dream says coldly. “I control the flow of information, Tommy. They’ll hear what I need them to hear.” 

“THEY DON’T KNOW THAT HE’S GONE! They- they don’t know that he’s gone, that’s he’s- he’s not coming back, he’s dead, he- they don’t know to look for him or-” Yet again, the words stick in his throat. This time, Tommy forces them out quickly, heedless of the sob that accompanies them. “They won’t even know to build a fucking  _ grave _ for him!”

Dream takes a step forward. “Tommy, I know what’s best on this server. Don’t you trust me?” 

“YOU KILLED TUBBO!” Tommy screams back, tears blurring his vision. “I AM NEVER, NEVER,  _ NEVER _ GOING TO FUCKING TRUST YOU!”

Something flashes in Dream’s eyes. “Choose your next words carefully, Tommy.” 

He killed Tubbo. Dream killed Tubbo, and didn’t tell anyone. No one’s going to know. No one’s going to know that Dream killed Tommy’s brother-

The words aren’t forming the way they’re supposed to. So instead, Tommy’s knuckles slam into Dream’s face with a dull  _ thud. _

Dream lets his head jerk sideways, despite the lack of force behind the blow. Tommy glares at him defiantly, chest heaving and tears starting to spill over. Slowly, Dream reaches up and lightly touches the spot that Tommy had hit.

Tommy’s already trying to flee when Dream lunges. 

The fight is vicious and short-lived. The cell is small, too small for Tommy to evade Dream for long. Even if Tommy was in peak health, well-fed instead of emaciated and thin, it would be impossible for him to stay away. And Dream, unlike Tommy, is in top condition. The apex predator. Always better, always faster, always stronger. 

Always in control.

Tommy’s head hits obsidian with a sickening  _ crack. _ Stars burst in front of his eyes and a sharp gasp of pain escapes his mouth. Before he has a chance to react, Dream’s on him, forearm shoved against Tommy’s throat. Tommy wheezes and claws weakly at Dream’s arm. Dream pushes harder, and Tommy feels cold metal scrape against the side of his neck. 

“Listen, Tommy,” Dream snarls. “This is for your own good. Your own good, Tommy! So  _ stop struggling. _ Stop fighting, stop arguing, stop resisting because you’re not getting out! You’re going to stay here until I need you! Until it  _ safe _ for you. You trust me, don’t you Tommy?”

No. No, he doesn’t trust Dream. Dream killed Tubbo.

Tommy will  _ never _ forgive him for that. 

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. Dream’s forearm is crushing his windpipe, restricting his airflow. Tommy kicks, trying desperately to make Dream let go. One foot connects, and Tommy hears glass shatter. Dream yelps and pulls back, the purplish-red of harming potions staining the front of his hoodie. Tommy drops the ground, gasping for air. There’s a thin line of blood trickling down the side of his neck from where Dream’s dagger had cut into his skin. “You killed him-” Tommy coughs. “You killed him and you can’t even  _ tell _ them-”

“Tommy, stop. This is your last warning.” 

“YOU KILLED TUBBO AND YOU’RE NOT TELLING THEM THAT HE’S DEAD THAT YOU KILLED HIM-”

“TOMMY, STOP OR THE BOOK BURNS!” 

Tommy whips around, heart racing. Surely he wouldn’t-

Dream’s holding the book over a lit match, the flame dancing under the shimmering pages. 

Tommy freezes. 

Dream glowers down at him. “You can’t do that, Tommy. I know what’s best for you. I’m just trying to  _ help. _ I even tried to help your hand! But you just can’t stop, can you Tommy? You can’t stop challenging me. You break my trust again and again.  _ You can’t do that, Tommy.” _ He drops the match and grinds his heel into it, extinguishing the flame. “No more visits, Tommy. Not until you’ve learned.”

All Tommy can do is watch numbly as Dream calls Sam. Dream didn’t tell anyone. No one knows that Tubbo is dead. None of them know what happened at that mountain. 

The iron door opens. Wordlessly, Dream exits the cell, without even looking back at Tommy. Then the door slams shut. 

He’s alone again.

_ No one’s even going to find Tubbo’s body. They’re only going to find out if… _

An image drifts through Tommy’s mind. It’s his Tubbo. Standing with his back turned to Tommy, looking over the crater that was L’manberg. Tommy reaches towards him and Tubbo turns to face him, smiling brightly. 

Blue drips from the gash in his throat, staining the front of his shirt. His skin is ashen and gray. Tommy’s eyes widen, and Tubbo’s entire form flickers before returning to its translucent self. 

Tommy snaps back into reality with a choked gasp. If Tubbo came back as a ghost…

It’ll only be another thing for Dream to use against him. 

Tommy curls up, feeling bare skin scrape against shards of glass left from the ruined potions, and wails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont worry next chapter you get a "break"
> 
> hope this chapter didnt end too abruptly, apologies if it did
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are appreciated :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy im excited about this one
> 
> TW: blood, mention of death, mention of suicide, manipulation, self harm

Two weeks in the cell.

The marks stretch up the length of his forearm.

His hand doesn’t get much better. The healing potion that Dream managed to work into the festering wound does its job, sealing up the jagged edges of the hole and starting the process of knitting the skin back together. But it isn’t enough. And Tommy lacks the means to keep it cleaned anyways. He knows it’s getting infected, he knows that without consistent treatment it will only get worse, but Tommy doesn’t care. The damage is irreparable without potions anyways; that much is clear from the way Tommy now can’t move his hand unless he forces the motion with his good hand.

Dream stays true to his word. No one comes to visit Tommy. Nor does Dream. The only human interaction Tommy has is when Sam comes to drop off food and water. 

Then he leaves.

And Tommy’s alone again. 

The clock provides some entertainment. But not much. There’s nothing to do in the cell. Once, Tommy made a feeble attempt to break out. He had spent all day trying to break the obsidian. By the time Sam came the next morning, Tommy had only made a shallow dent in the wall. Most of the time, Tommy preoccupies himself with thoughts of his friends. Phil, Techno, and Ranboo, all out in the snow and away from the place that had ruined them. Niki, Fundy, and Quackity, all having abandoned L’manberg and gone their separate ways. Ghostbur, happily oblivious to all the pain around him. 

His family.

Sometimes he imagines that Tubbo’s still alive, working cheerfully on Snowchester.

Tommy leans his head back against the wall, staring listlessly at the ceiling. He can feel the isolation getting to him, slowly crumbling the walls of protection Tommy had built up, twisting his thoughts. He’s cracking. Tommy’s  _ cracking. _

The obsidian is cold. Cold as ice. It sends chills rippling out from wherever Tommy touches it. The feeling of cold rock digging into his back is familiar. Slowly, Tommy lets his eyes drift shut.

And he’s thrown right back into Pogtopia. 

Sitting in the corner. Knees curled to his chest. A jutting bit of stone sticking him in the back, connecting him to reality. That corner of the ravine was dark, hidden away from the main space. Tommy chose it specifically for that reason. No one knew when he was there. 

No one came looking for him there.

But Tommy was always close enough to hear what went on in the main ravine. 

It was a nice place to get away from everything. To remain safe, but not let anyone see how it was affecting him. A good place for Tommy to think about the banishment, to think about the festival, to think about everything that’s happened without having to hide his emotions. He’d only told one person about his secret spot, and that person was Tubbo. 

He brought Tubbo to that corner when Tubbo had spiraled into a panic attack at the sight of Technoblade making fireworks. 

Pogtopia was always cold. That corner was colder. But it was never quite as cold when Tubbo was there with him.

Inevitably, Wilbur had found out about Tommy’s hiding spot. He’d discovered Tommy huddled up and nursing the still-swollen bruise over his eye, courtesy of Technoblade. Tommy had felt a flash of fear-  _ no, Wilbur’s discovered him, Wilbur’s found where Tommy’s been hiding, who knows what he might do-  _ but Wilbur had simply slid down the wall and sat next to him. Wilbur had rubbed his hand in rhythmic circles around Tommy’s back, whispering the occasional reassurance. 

“Tommy.”

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, pressing back into the obsidian. It’s bad enough reliving his Pogtopia memories. He doesn’t need the echo of Wilbur’s voice tangling through his memories, haunting him with the all too familiar words. 

_ Tommy, let’s be the bad guys. _

“Tommy.” Wilbur’s voice grows more insistent. 

Prime, he’s hallucinating now, isn’t he? The voice is unmistakably Wilbur’s. Not Ghostbur’s. But Wilbur’s dead. Just as dead as Tubbo is. Gone forever unless Tommy obeys Dream.

“I’m hallucinating,” he tells himself. Maybe that’ll jolt him back into reality. 

Wilbur’s voice sighs. He sounds oddly sad, for a hallucination. “You’re… you’re not hallucinating.”

Tommy ducks his head into his arms and clamps his hands over his ears. He’s going crazy. Wilbur’s  _ dead. _ He can’t be here. The memories of Pogtopia are simply bringing back this echo of Wilbur’s voice. That’s all.

Something ghosts over his back. Tommy stiffens at the unexpected contact, and the touch disappears briefly. Then it’s back, settling just in between his shoulder blades. It feels like a hand. A large, cold hand resting on his back. 

_ What… _

Slowly, the hand starts moving, rubbing gentle circles across Tommy’s back. 

No. That’s impossible. He’s dead. Tommy’s alone in the cell. No one besides Sam comes to the cell. He’s  _ dead. _ Tommy saw his body, saw the sword stuck through his chest, saw Phil’s heartbroken expression-

“Ghostbur?” Tommy asks uncertainly. It has to be Ghostbur. The ghost probably thinks it’s a joke, probably thinks he’s being funny or making Tommy feel better, because Wilbur  _ cannot be here. _

Wilbur’s voice chuckles darkly. “Oh, I’m not Ghostbur.” 

Tommy’s stomach hollows. He opens his eyes and lifts his head, searching for the source of the voice.

There. To his left.

Wilbur sits next to him, hand still rubbing circles on Tommy’s back. He gives Tommy a weary grin. “Hello. Have you missed me?”

He’s here. 

Wilbur’s actually here. 

Tommy cuts off Wilbur’s next words with a hug. 

Wrapping his arms tightly around Wilbur, Tommy buries his head in Wilbur’s chest. Inhaling, he can smell the familiar sulfurous scent that surrounded Wilbur, the scent of smoke and scorched fabric. He’s here. Wilbur’s here, Wilbur’s  _ actually here- _

Wilbur hesitates. Then he returns the hug, folding Tommy in his arms and pulling him closer. Tears well in Tommy’s eyes, and he squeezes harder, pressing himself into Wilbur’s body. Wilbur’s skin is cold as ice, but Tommy doesn’t care. His mere presence is warmth enough for Tommy. 

They stay like that for a long time. Tommy remains curled up against Wilbur, tightly clutching on to his trench coat like Wilbur might dissolve at any moment. At some point, Tommy can’t hold the sobs back anymore, the tears coming thick and fast. Wilbur doesn’t seem to mind. He stays silent, instead continuing to gently rub Tommy’s back. 

Wilbur’s here. Hugging him. 

He hadn’t done that since the old days of L’manberg, the end of the initial revolution.

The last time Tommy had seen Wilbur, Wilbur was crumpled and broken in Phil’s arms, a sword protruding from between his shoulder blades. If Tommy moves his hand closer to the center of Wilbur’s back, he can feel the hole in his trench coat. And if he presses harder, he can feel the unnatural split in skin and muscle, a permanent reminder of the wound that had ended Wilbur’s life.

_ That ended Wilbur’s life… _

Wilbur is dead. Tommy watched him die. Tommy watched the life seep out of his body. Tommy watched Ghostbur pop into existence. He knows that while Ghostbur may have come from Wilbur’s death, he certainly isn’t Wilbur. 

And yet, somehow, Wilbur is here. Hugging him.

Slowly, Tommy pulls back. Wilbur lets him, watching with dark eyes. “How?” Tommy rasps. “How are you here?” 

Wilbur releases a long breath. “I honestly don’t know. I felt the plane between our worlds growing smaller, and now I’m here.” He hesitates for barely a moment. “I did not think I’d find you in a cell.”

Tommy laughs bitterly. “Yeah, well, a lot has happened.”

Something shifts in Wilbur’s face, and his form flickers briefly. “Tell me.” He holds up his hand, shushing Tommy before he can respond. “Start from my death. Don’t worry about being insensitive. Just tell me.”

No one’s asked Tommy to tell them before.

He hasn’t even told Tubbo. 

He’s kept it bottled up inside him, not wanting to burden anyone else. But Wilbur’s asking him to talk about it. Wilbur’s asking Tommy to tell him. 

So Tommy tells him. 

It’s difficult at first. Tommy stumbles over the words, not quite sure how or what to tell Wilbur. But Wilbur doesn’t interrupt or push him to go farther. He just listens, waiting patiently. 

And gradually, it gets easier.

Tommy tells Wilbur about Techno’s withers. He tells Wilbur about the Theseus monologue. He tells Wilbur about the broken despair that settled over the remnants of L’manberg. About Tubbo’s presidency. About the lake that filled the crater of L’manberg. About the new L’manberg, built on stilts over the lake.

The burning down of George’s house. Dream’s anger. The threat of obsidian walls encasing the newly rebuilt country. The trial. Tubbo’s indecision. Dream’s threats. Tommy’s attempt to get control of the situation.

The way Dream snapped, seizing the front of Tommy’s shirt and shaking him like a ragdoll. 

Standing atop the obsidian, waiting with bated breath for Tubbo to speak out against Dream, to tell him that L’manberg would fight. 

Shock clouding his mind as he stared into Tubbo’s eyes. The way Tubbo’s face betrayed no regret or sadness as he declared Tommy to be exiled. 

The words flow easily, outside of Tommy’s control now. He tells Wilbur about the beach he’d been deposited on. Dream taking all of his possessions and blowing them up. The sobs that had racked his body that first night. Logsteadshire. Dream greeting him the next day with a friendly smile and a piece of TNT to blow up the few supplies Tommy had gathered.

Staring at the lava below him. Wondering if it would be painful. Dream pulling him back, telling Tommy that it’s not his time to die.

The compass. Your Tubbo.

Dream, coming back every day to blow up his stuff.

Tommy’s gradual dependence on Dream, for protection, for company.

The party. The crushing emptiness and depression that swept over Tommy when no one came. Dream’s condolences and reassurances. Soaring through the rain with Dream’s trident. Alone in the sky. The fall, plunging back into freezing water and coughing violently as Dream forced the water from his chest. 

His visit to L’manberg. 

Dream discovering the hidden chests. Tommy’s desperate pleas for Dream to stop. TNT exploding around him, far too close to him, while Dream shouted. Frantically apologizing and trying to keep his only friend from leaving. 

Stacking up as high as he could. 

Tommy’s realization.

The long, treacherous journey to Techno’s house. Shivering in the snow and collapsing on the threshold, weakly grabbing a potion from one of Techno’s chests. The room he’d carved out under Techno’s house. Techno discovering him and the spike of fear Tommy had felt when he saw Techno’s red eyes boring into him.

The slow recovery. The way Techno helped him, not demanding anything of him, not forcing Tommy to do anything, not getting mad when Tommy messed up. Waking up screaming every night, crying and begging for Dream. Slowly learning that Dream might not be his friend.

Finding the Final Control Room. The panic attack that followed.

Hiding in a box in the corner. Watching Dream’s boots make their way around Techno’s house. Clamping his hand over his mouth to muffle his breathing. The conflicting feelings of joy and terror that came with seeing Dream looking- no,  _ hunting- _ for him. 

Venturing to L’manberg with Techno. Holding Connor hostage. The expression on Tubbo’s face when he saw Tommy. Tubbo’s quiet voice, saying that he thought Tommy was dead. Heading back to the portal with his mind whirling.

Getting met by Dream at the portal. This time the feeling was sheer terror. Dream ordering Tommy to come with him or the disc burns. The flare of hope when Techno stepped in between Tommy and Dream. 

Discovering that Tubbo was holding a festival. Watching from the shadows of the rooftops as Tubbo gave his speech. Dream yelling at Tubbo. The remains of the community house. The desperation that speared through Tommy as Tubbo fingered the disc. 

The sound of the Axe of Peace slamming into Tubbo’s shield. Tommy screaming at Tubbo, and Tubbo screaming back. The discs are worth more than you ever were.

Strange silence following. The awkward-turned-heartfelt apologies. Standing by Tubbo’s side as Dream shouted at them, as Technoblade left him. Squeezing Tubbo’s hand as L’manberg was threatened once again.

Doomsday. L’manberg, blown clean to bedrock by none other than Dream, Technoblade, and Philza. 

Snowchester. The awkwardness between Tubbo and Tommy, neither able to fully understand what the other went through. 

Dream’s message to Tommy. Saying goodbye. The massive mountain that Dream’s message brought them to. The fight on top of the mountain. Tommy desperately screaming for Dream to stop as Dream held Tubbo over the edge of the cliff. Clutching Tubbo close while Dream blew up their belongings. The desperation and despair.

Tommy’s voice cracks and he hunches his shoulders, breathing shakily. Wilbur’s hand returns to his back, rubbing in circles again. Tommy looks down at his boots. “I- I’m not sure I- please, do I have to continue?”

“No. I’ve heard all I need to hear.” The pure fury in Wilbur’s voice surprises him, and Tommy glances up at his brother. Wilbur’s expression is dark, clouded with rage. “Dream is the one who did this to you.”

It’s not really a question. But Tommy nods anyways. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Wilbur snarls. “I’m going to  _ fucking kill that-” _

“Wilbur?” Tommy asks quietly. “I- I know you’re mad, but- can I ask you something?”

Wilbur turns to him, still glaring, and Tommy shrinks back. “What?” snaps Wilbur. 

“Is...is Tubbo there?”

Immediately, Wilbur’s demeanor changes. The tension leaves his shoulders, and he shifts his weight. “Tommy…”

“Is Tubbo there?” Desperation laces through his voice. Tommy needs to know. He needs to know if Tubbo is there with Wilbur.

Wilbur is quiet for a long moment. “Yes,” he says slowly. “Tubbo is here. In the afterlife.” 

Hope flares in Tommy’s chest. “Can- can I see him? Can I speak to him?” 

He could speak to Tubbo again. He could apologize. He could assure Tubbo that he’ll be back in no time, Tommy will get him back-

Wilbur leans back against the obsidian. “Tommy, I don’t know how  _ I _ got here, much less how to get Tubbo here.” 

“You’ve got to have some idea of how though, right? There has to be some way we can get him-”

Tommy feels Wilbur’s hand leave his back. Wilbur closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Even if I could, I’m not sure that would be the best idea.”

Tommy sits bolt upright. “What do you mean, not the best idea? I could- I need to speak to him again- Wilbur, I wanna see him! What’s wrong with that?”

Wilbur’s eyes remain closed. “Tommy-” 

“Wilbur, I  _ need _ to see him!”

“Tubbo can’t see you,” Wilbur says bluntly. “He cannot see you, Tommy.”

No. Tommy refuses to believe that. “Stop lying, I need to see him-”

Wilbur’s eyes fly open. “Tommy, who spoke to him more recently? You, or me? Who’s been taking care of him the past two weeks? Tubbo can’t see you. Even if there was a way, he  _ can’t. _ I’m sorry, Tommy.”

Tommy draws back, stunned. Again, Wilbur’s form flickers, and his features soften. “He can’t. He wants to, Tommy. Believe me, Tubbo really,  _ really _ wants to. But he understands that he can’t.”

“Why can’t I see him?” Tommy demands. Wilbur has to be lying. “What do you mean, ‘he understands that he can’t?’”

Wilbur cards his hands through his hair, sighing again. “Dream doesn’t kill without reason. There’s a reason why he killed Tubbo. We’re-”

“But he said he’d bring Tubbo back,” Tommy interrupts, his voice small. “If I behave, Dream’ll bring Tubbo back.”

Next to him, Wilbur goes still. “What?”

“He said if I’m good, he’ll get my Tubbo back.” Tommy shivers at the memory, the memory of that place, that room, that room where he had stared at Tubbo’s body while Dream used the book to resurrect Friend.

Without warning, Wilbur grabs his shoulders. Tommy flinches, reflexively trying to jerk away. Wilbur doesn’t let go. “Did he say how? Do you know if he’s going to use something? Is there an object he uses?”

Tommy struggles under Wilbur’s hands, but his grip remains tight. No. Tommy doesn’t like it. Wilbur’s restraining him, trapping him, hurting him. He wants Wilbur to let go. He wants Wilbur let go but he isn’t, he isn’t letting go, his cold fingers are digging into the scar on Tommy’s shoulder-

“The book!” Tommy bursts out. “He uses a book, there’s a book that he used, he reads something from it, please, let go, please, please-”

Abruptly, Wilbur releases him and sits back. Tommy scrambles back to the opposite wall, away from Wilbur. “That’s it,” Wilbur mutters. “That’s what we were missing.”

Curiosity overcomes Tommy’s fear. “What?”

Wilbur stands up, pacing back and forth around the cell. It’s a habit that Tommy’s all too used to seeing- Wilbur pacing around the ravine, trench coat billowing behind him. “That’s his play,” Wilbur says to himself. “That’s his reason. As long as he has the book-”

“Wilbur, WHAT? What is it?”

Wilbur whirls to face him. “Tommy, he’s using the book. He’s using your attachment to Tubbo-”

His form flickers again. But something’s different this time. The first two times, it’s been quick, a single ripple running through Wilbur’s body. But this is more akin to multiple ripples, like a lightbulb slowly dying. This flickering is so intense that Tommy can barely make out Wilbur’s form. 

Fear spikes in Tommy’s chest. “Wilbur?”

“Tom- you ca- he’s using the- you ha- fuck, I’m- Tommy, LIS-” Wilbur’s voice is breaking up, the words unintelligible. 

Tommy scrambles to his feet, reaching helplessly towards Wilbur. “Wilbur? Something’s happening, I can’t hear you-”

The flickering slows. Wilbur bolts forward, seizing Tommy’s shoulders again. “Tommy, he’s using the bo- Dream knows you’d do anything for Tubbo, he’s- you have t- cut the connection. You have-”

Tears are forming in Tommy’s eyes again. “What? Wilbur, I don’t understand!” 

Wilbur’s form stabilizes. Wilbur clutches Tommy’s shoulders tighter, shaking him. “I don’t have much time, I’m getting pulled back, so  _ listen, _ Tommy.” He speaks rapidly, the words blurring together. “Dream killed Tubbo to control you. He knows you’d do anything for Tubbo, and he’s using that against you. As long as Dream has that fucking book he can hold it over your head, he can use it to  _ control you. _ Tubbo suspected this, Tommy, he’s fine with his death, he doesn’t want to be resurrected, so don’t try. Don’t let Dream control you like this, Tommy! Don’t-”

Wilbur flickers violently. Tommy’s eyes widen in panic. “Wait- what do you mean Tubbo-”

“You have-” Through the flickering, Tommy sees Wilbur’s brow furrow in concentration. “-the connection, Tommy! Cut your attachment- Tubbo! Accept that he’s go- Dream’ll keep controlling you!”

Wilbur’s already-translucent form is fading. Tommy lurches forward, panic overriding his thoughts. “No, no, no, Wilbur, wait! I don’t understand! Don’t leave-”

He can no longer feel Wilbur’s hands on his shoulders. Tommy reaches out, but his fingers go right through Wilbur’s body. Wilbur watches him do it and goes completely still. Something that Tommy doesn’t recognize flashes across his face and Wilbur looks up, brown eyes meeting Tommy’s blue ones. 

And Wilbur smiles at him. Not the crazed, maniac grin that Tommy had gotten so used to seeing. This smile is sad. Mournful. 

Tommy shakes his head, fear spreading through his mind like an inkblot on paper. “No. Wilbur, no, don’t go, please, don’t leave me here with Dream! Please, I still don’t understand what you meant about Tubbo-”

He can barely make out Wilbur’s form now. “Stay strong,” Wilbur says, his voice fainter than a breeze. “I’m proud of you, Tommy.”

“NO!” Tommy shouts desperately. 

But it’s too late.

Wilbur’s form dissipates, leaving Tommy standing alone in the center of the cell.

Tommy sits down, mind reeling in shock. He had spoken to Wilbur. Not Ghostbur,  _ Wilbur. _ The first brother he had lost.

What did Wilbur mean? What did he mean about Dream using the book? What did he mean about Tubbo?

Tommy doesn’t know.

_ I saw Wilbur. _

For the first time since the sixteenth of November, Tommy had seen Wilbur. Spoken to him. Seen him standing and walking, not limp and lifeless in Phil’s arms. He was still dead- skin ashen and cold, translucent, blue leaking from the wound in his chest- but he was  _ here. _ And he had listened to Tommy while the trauma spilled out from Tommy’s mouth. 

If Tommy can speak to Wilbur, who’s been dead for months, then he can speak to Tubbo. 

A dull click resounds through the cell, and Tommy startles. He glances up at the clock just in time to watch the hand tick past midnight. Automatically, Tommy braces his forearm against his thigh, the movement habitual by now. He finds a stretch of smooth, unblemished skin just under the crook of his elbow, and digs his nail in. 

Despite the sting, Tommy’s thoughts wander back to Wilbur. Wilbur said that Tubbo can’t see him, that Tubbo  _ shouldn’t _ see him. It doesn’t make sense to Tommy. Why can’t he see his Tubbo? Why was Wilbur so insistent on Tommy cutting the connection?

What does that even mean?

Something warm and wet is running down his inner arm. Tommy looks down, and sees blood trickling from the cut that’s gradually getting deeper as Tommy’s nail pushes harder and harder into his flesh. 

Fuck. He cut too deep. Tommy pulls his nail out, and presses the hem of his shirt against the cut. Thoughts still on Wilbur and Tubbo, Tommy watches a splotch of blood grow on the fabric. 

What did Wilbur mean, “cut his attachment?” 

He couldn’t have meant give up Tubbo. Wilbur knows that Tommy won’t do that. Besides, Tommy  _ will _ get Tubbo back. He has to. If he’s good, if he listens to Dream, Dream promised to bring Tubbo back.

A thought drifts through his head, broken and disjointed.  _ Dream always lies. _

But Dream is his only chance of getting Tubbo back. He doesn’t care if Wilbur said not to try and resurrect Tubbo. Without Tubbo, Tommy has nothing. Nothing to live for. Nothing keeping him tethered. 

Tommy lifts his shirt from his arm, examining the new cut. Another day stuck here in the cell. Another day without Tubbo. 

No matter what happens, Tommy has to get Tubbo back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY I CAN ADD WILBUR TO THE TAGS AND GET EVEN MORE PEOPLE TO READ THIS MWAHAHAHA
> 
> hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> ready for the last chapter?
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JSKDJFK I PROMISE THIS IS THE LAST TIME I SPLIT A CHAPTER, I PROMISE
> 
> TW: blood, mention of death, manipulation, self harm, vomit

A month in the cell.

He’s running out of room on his arm for the marks. Tommy would try gouging out the marks on his other arm, but he’s lost all mobility of his injured hand. He can’t even feel the appendage, never mind summon the strength to break skin. 

At this point, Tommy finds himself wondering if it would be better to just remove his hand entirely. Tear off the hem of his shirt, use it as a tourniquet, and wait for the hand to blacken and shrivel until it falls off. 

Would that even work? Tommy’s only seen a tourniquet in action once. Wilbur had wound one around his upper arm, twisting the arrow that had caused the wound into the fabric to tighten the tourniquet. Tommy remembers watching with morbid fascination as Techno had helped remove the tourniquet, furiously berating Wilbur for using the dangerous method. He had mentioned loss of the limb, but if Tommy remembers correctly, Techno had used the word  _ amputate _ . 

Amputation. So a tourniquet might make the damage worse, but it wouldn’t remove his hand naturally. And he might not be able to do it without some sort of stick to make the tourniquet as tight as possible. 

He’ll have to put up with the wound for now.

Wilbur had appeared in his cell two weeks ago. Tommy replayed their interaction over and over in his head, memorizing each word and touch. In those blurry moments when Tommy’s about to slip into sleep, he can almost feel the phantom echo of Wilbur’s hand rubbing across his back. 

He misses Wilbur. 

He misses any sort of company, really. Dream still hasn’t visited him. Wilbur hasn’t reappeared. Despite the desperate hope that Tommy had held out, he hasn’t seen Tubbo. 

_ I  _ will  _ see him again. I have to. I’m not losing Tubbo. _

Tommy’s been completely alone for a week. Sam stopped coming. Tommy doesn’t know why, just that one day Sam came, and the next he didn’t. As far as Tommy knows, he didn’t do anything that might provoke this absence. Tommy’s been good. He hasn’t struggled, he hasn’t tried to escape, he hasn’t tried to fight, and he’s been eating. There shouldn’t have been anything that triggered Sam’s abrupt disappearance. 

The loneliness is crushing. But the more pressing issue is food. Sam had brought Tommy food and water. With his lack of presence comes a lack of food. If Tommy had known that Sam would stop coming, he would’ve stopped eating as much, would’ve preserved the now precious potatoes and water. Having no idea that Sam would leave, Tommy had done what he usually did. Scarf down the potatoes, and drink about half of the water.

Now, he regrets it. Sharp hunger pangs cleave through his stomach at even the smallest movement, and his throat feels like it’s coated in sandpaper. The remaining water had lasted Tommy the day, and by the time it crossed his mind that Sam might not come back, the water was gone. Tommy had taken to drinking from the stagnant pool of water in the corner, half-remembered lessons from Phil telling him that if he has water, he’ll last longer. 

Even with occasional sips from the pool, it merely takes the edge off the pain in his throat and stomach. It doesn’t quench his thirst or hunger. Several times, Tommy has thrown up. Vomited up the liquid as soon as it hit his empty stomach. He’s careful not to let any bile get in the pool. He can’t afford to have his only source of water tainted, no matter how unhelpful it feels like it is. Tommy’s very aware that the pool of water is the only thing keeping him alive. 

Yet slowly, Tommy finds himself accepting it. He’s not getting out of here. He’s going to starve to death before anyone finds him. Tommy is going to die here, hungry and alone. 

Alone. 

Every other time he’s lost a permanent life, Tommy was surrounded by people. In the Final Control Room, he’d died alongside his family. In his duel with Dream, Tommy had died with Tubbo, Wilbur, and Fundy huddled around him. But now? Tommy’s going to die alone. No one’s going to be here with him. They won’t even know he’s dead. 

_ No one knows that Tubbo’s dead either. _

When Tommy hears the cell door open, he dismisses it as a figment of his imagination. No one’s actually here. His mind is playing tricks on him. Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, trying to force the darkness to consume him. He just wants to sleep. Nightmares are better than the stabbing pain in his abdomen and the dull nothingness of the cell. 

Cold hands seize his shoulders, shaking him roughly. Tommy keeps his eyes closed, letting his head loll. Just let him  _ sleep. _ He doesn’t want to deal with hallucinations or illusions now. 

Something strikes him hard across the face. Tommy’s head jolts sideways, hitting obsidian, and his eyes fly open. 

_ What- _

There’s a blurry, green shape in front of him. Tommy blinks furiously, trying to clear his vision. Slowly, the shape sharpens.

Dream.

Fear pricks at the edges of Tommy’s mind, mixed with an overwhelming sense of relief. Dream’s here. Crouched in front of him. Hand still raised from hitting Tommy. He’s here. Dream actually came for him. 

Tommy’s not alone anymore. 

Dream shakes Tommy again. “Get up,” he hisses. “I need you.”

“You came,” Tommy murmurs, dazed. “You’re- you’re actually here.” 

“I didn’t say I was abandoning you.” Dream snorts. “Get up, Tommy.”

Tommy tries, only for pain to spike through his stomach. He cringes, sliding back down the wall. “Can’t.”

A low growl emits from Dream’s throat, and without warning he reaches out, catching Tommy’s chin. Tommy jerks away from the touch, but Dream doesn’t let go. His grip tightens and Dream forces Tommy’s head up. Panic rolls in Tommy’s gut, and he tries to pull away again. No. He doesn’t like the way Dream’s grabbing him, he doesn’t like the way Dream’s fingers dig into Tommy’s cheeks, he wants Dream to  _ let go. _ The position is too vulnerable. Tommy feels too vulnerable with his head tilted back like this. Dream’s hand is too close to Tommy’s throat, Tommy’s neck is too exposed, it would be far too easy for Dream to-

Fingers pinch his nose, blocking his airflow. Instinctively, Tommy opens his mouth to suck in air. Immediately something cool and round presses against his lips, and Tommy feels warm, cloying liquid trickling into his mouth. Dream’s hand clamps over Tommy’s mouth, both preventing him from spitting out the liquid and keeping Tommy’s head tilted back. Tommy feels the liquid pooling uncomfortably in the back of his throat, and struggles weakly for another moment before giving in and swallowing. 

The second Dream releases him, Tommy turns and retches, trying to expel the liquid from his body. Too late. He can feel it settling heavily in his stomach. It’s got to be a potion, only a potion sticks like this and seeps through his body, spreading out through his limbs. He manages to get out a little bit of the potion, but the majority of it stays in Tommy’s body. No, no, no, he doesn’t like it, he wants it  _ out- _

“There.” Dream sits back on his heels. “Now get up.”

Tommy whimpers softly. He doesn’t want to obey Dream. But he doesn’t Dream to manhandle him like that again, that felt wrong, that reminds Tommy too much of exile, too much of Wilbur’s crazed and jerky movements. Tommy doesn’t want to be forced to do something like that again, and the only way he can avoid it is if he obeys. 

So Tommy obeys, bracing himself against the wall and slowly standing up. His legs shake but even as he thinks it, he can feel them steadying, managing to support his weight. It must have been a healing potion that Dream made him drink. That or a regen potion, only healing and regen potions would have this affect. 

Dream’s taking care of him. Dream gave him a potion. Dream’s making sure that Tommy doesn’t starve to death. Dream came to visit him after a week of total isolation. Doesn’t that mean Dream cares about him?

“What do you want?” Tommy rasps, the words scraping horribly against his dry throat. “Why- why are you here?” 

“You’re going to do something for me, Tommy,” Dream says simply. 

There’s something strange in his voice, something that Tommy’s never heard in Dream before. It scares Tommy. This unfamiliarity makes Dream dangerous, he doesn’t know what Dream might do, he doesn’t know how to avoid anything that might trigger a reaction from Dream. “What do you want me to do?” Tommy asks, keeping his eyes downcast and his voice small. 

Dream’s eyes gleam. With a start, Tommy realizes why Dream’s felt so off. The smooth, porcelain mask Tommy’s never seen Dream without is  _ broken. _ About a third of the mask is missing completely, exposing one of Dream’s eyes and his mouth, and Tommy can see cracks spiderwebbing through the remaining porcelain. Besides the broken mask, Dream just looks ragged. Desperate. Blood crusts from a cut on his temple, and Tommy notices the awkward way Dream holds his arm. 

Dream isn’t supposed to get hurt. He’s supposed to be practically invincible. He isn’t supposed to bleed, and Tommy isn’t supposed to see it when he does. 

What happened to Dream?

“There’s something in the main city that needs to be taken care of. Some sort of egg. And Tommy?” Dream makes direct eye contact with him. “You’re going to destroy that egg.” 

Shivers crawl up Tommy’s spine. Egg. He doesn’t like the use of the word. It sounds too ominous. Too foreboding. Too suggestive of bad things to come. Tommy’s  _ scared _ of it. He’s scared of this ‘egg.’ 

“I- destroy it? I don’t understand…” Tommy falters, unsure what he’s trying to say. Instinct tells him to stay away from the egg. He can’t go near it. But he can’t disobey Dream either. 

“You’ll get a piece of TNT to destroy it with once you’re out of the prison. Take it to the egg, light it, and blow up the egg.” Dream’s hand closes around Tommy’s arm, just above his elbow. “Come on, Tommy.” 

Shock breaks through the fear flooding Tommy’s mind. “Out of the prison?”

“Yes,” Dream says, irritation coloring his voice. “Now  _ let’s go.” _

Tommy balks against Dream’s grip, shaking his head slightly. “But- but I’m not supposed to leave. Sam says I’m not supposed to leave.” 

“Sam’s dead, Tommy.”

What?

No. Sam isn’t dead. Dream has to be lying. Sam might’ve lost one of his lives, sure, but he isn’t permanently dead. There’s no way that Sam’s gone. 

_ That would explain why he hasn’t came... _

Maintaining a tight grip on Tommy’s arm, Dream pulls him out of the cell. Tommy lets him, mind blank with shock. Nothing’s making sense. Surely he’s dreaming. Dream isn’t actually here. Sam isn’t actually here. Tommy’s still in the cell, hunger pangs keeping him curled up against the wall. 

Dream leads him through the maze of blackstone walls and chambers. It’s not the same route that they took going into the prison. This is more complicated, hidden passageways and corridors exposed at the flick of a lever. Tommy doesn’t bother trying to memorize the route. He’s just going to end up right back in his cell. Trapped and alone. No hope of escaping. Dream may be taking him out now, but Tommy knows it’s going to be temporary. It has to be temporary. If Tommy gets his hopes up, it’s only going to be more painful when he’s dragged back to his cell. 

Through the portal. Wait. Through the portal again. And  _ sunlight. _ Bright, blinding sunlight. Tommy slams his eyes shut against the light. It’s too bright. He doesn’t like it, he misses the cool darkness of his cell-

Dream releases his arm. Surprised, Tommy cracks open his eyes. 

He’s outside.

The last time Tommy was outside, he’d been nursing a wounded shoulder and an impaled hand. He’d been trying to focus through a concussion. Dream was tugging him along, steering him towards the looming blackstone walls.

And Tommy had just watched Tubbo bleed out in front of him.

He’s outside of the prison. There’s sunlight streaming down on him, warming his shoulders. Tommy shifts his weight slightly, and feels grass under his feet. Soft, loose grass and dirt. He can hear the quiet  _ shh _ of waves lapping against the shore, can hear wind whispering through the trees, can hear the distant yip of a dog.

There’s nothing surrounding him. Nothing keeping him in place. No walls. No obsidian or blackstone besides the prison behind him. 

For a moment, Tommy’s seized by the mad desire to run. 

Flee. Take advantage of Dream’s apparent distraction and bolt. Head towards the main city and find a place to hide until night. A place where Dream wouldn’t think he’d go. Tommy could hide in the crater of L’manberg, or Badboyhalo and Skeppy’s house, or even Eret’s tower if he has to. Surely Dream wouldn’t look for him there. Once night falls, Tommy could find the lengths of tunnels running through the city. He could find the one leading back to- to Pogtopia. Dream wouldn’t look for him there. Pogtopia is dead in everyone’s minds. A shadow of what it used to be. Nothing but a bad memory for most people. As far as Tommy knows, no one’s gone to Pogtopia since it all happened. Tommy could hide in Pogtopia. He could curl up in his corner and imagine that his family there with him, flitting around the ravine and arguing with each other. 

_ Run.  _

_ Run, Tommy. _

Tommy tenses, tracking his route with his eyes.

_ Get out of here.  _

_ Tommy, RUN! _

“Don’t.”

Tommy’s eyes widen at the sound of Dream’s voice. He has to run. He has to run now, this is his only chance, he can run and he can escape, but he has to run  _ now- _

“You’re weak, Tommy.” Tommy feels Dream’s hand slide across his shoulders and shudders violently. “You could barely stand when I came for you. You’re starving. You’re wounded. And you’re still weakened from the Elder Guardians. Try to run, and I’ll catch you.” Dream squeezes Tommy’s shoulder. “And when I catch you, Tommy? I’m going to burn the book to ashes. To  _ ashes, _ Tommy.”

No. No, Dream can’t burn the book, Tubbo will be gone forever-

“But…” Dream’s voice takes on an exaggerated thoughtful tone. “If you do this for me, if you destroy the egg… I might consider bringing Tubbo back.”

Tommy’s heart skips a beat. 

Bring… Tubbo back?

Would Dream actually do that? 

_ Dream always lies. _

“Of course, you have to successfully destroy the egg first.” Dream’s hand leaves his shoulder. “One small, simple thing. And you can have Tubbo back. It’s not hard, Tommy.”

He could get Tubbo back. Dream would revive Tubbo, and Tommy could take his brother with him and run. Surely the two of them could get enough of an edge on Dream to steal the book from him and get away. Then together they could hide, bring back Wilbur, and find a new place to live. Somewhere far from the city, from Pogtopia, from L’manberg. Somewhere where Dream won’t find them.

_ I could have Tubbo back. _

Even the idea of it, the idea of seeing Tubbo flushed and laughing instead of clammy and bleeding…

Tommy draws in a shaky breath and tears his eyes away from the treeline. “How do you want me to destroy it?”

Dream nods in a satisfied manner, and Tommy sees the grin spreading across the half of his mouth that’s visible. “Good. At least you learned something in that cell.” Dream holds out a small bundle of TNT. “Use this. Follow the vines to the egg and blow it up. Don’t speak to anyone. Go straight to the egg.”

Tommy takes the TNT, staring at it blankly. He doesn’t like TNT. Not since it’s been used against him time and time again. Not since Wilbur used it to blow up L’manberg. Not since Dream rained it from the sky and destroyed Tubbo’s L’manberg. Not since Tommy had to shove Tubbo out of the way and take the blast himself to ensure his brother’s survival. 

“Be good, Tommy,” Dream says, voice bordering on condescending. Tommy focuses on him, and Dream smiles. “Do this one thing for me, Tommy. One thing. And Tubbo is all yours.”

No matter what, he has to get Tubbo back.

Tucking the TNT away, Tommy nods slowly. For Tubbo. He has to do this for Tubbo. All Tommy needs to do is take the TNT to the egg and blow it up. Blow it up, run back to Dream, and get Tubbo back. He’ll see Tubbo soon. 

Something smooth and hard presses into Tommy’s palm. He looks down, watching Dream close his fingers around the hilt of the dagger. “Just in case,” Dream says smoothly. “Now go. If you’re not back by sundown, the book burns.”

Again, Tommy nods. Dream backs up a step, gesturing at Tommy to move. So slowly, hesitantly, Tommy starts walking towards the main city. Dagger in hand and TNT carefully hidden in his pocket. 

He could run now. Dream wouldn’t know.

But Tommy has a deadline. If the egg isn’t destroyed by the time the sun sets, then Dream’s going to burn the book. Dream’s going to burn the book, and Tommy will never see Tubbo again. 

Wilbur’s words twine through his mind again.  _ As long as Dream has that fucking book he can hold it over your head, he can use it to control you. _

Tommy shakes his head and walks faster. He has to do this. He can’t afford to lose Tubbo forever. Tommy doesn’t care what Wilbur said. He’s getting his Tubbo back, even if it means doing Dream’s bidding. 

He’s only just past Skeppy and Bad’s house when he sees the first vine. 

Tommy stops in his tracks, staring wide-eyed at the sight. The vine is huge, stretching up the house and wrapping around the quartz. It’s different than a regular vine, closer to the unnatural vines of the Nether. Thick, gnarled, and redder than a potion of harming. 

Hesitantly, Tommy nudges it with his foot. 

Nothing bad happens. But Tommy recoils anyways, nausea curling in his stomach. Something about the vine doesn’t feel  _ right. _ It feels wrong, unnatural, unwelcome. 

He could’ve sworn he saw it move.

_ Follow the vines to the egg and blow it up. _

Tommy grits his teeth, listening to the faint  _ clack _ as his teeth grind together. He’ll have to just bear it. Deal with the sense of unease and wrongness exuding from the vines and push on. It’ll be fine. 

So Tommy follows the vine. 

The vines trace all the way up the Prime Path. It feels wrong. Violating. Nothing should grow on the Prime Path, least of all the vines. These vines are wrong, they’re strange, they’re not supposed to be here, Tommy doesn’t like them-

Something catches on his boot. Tommy stumbles with a gasp, and looks down. Of course. A vine. The tangle of vines is growing thicker, almost completely overtaking the path. A soft whine escapes Tommy’s mouth as he takes in the scene. Ahead of him, the landscape is a sea of solid red. Vines cover every inch of land, twisting up buildings and towers. He can barely even see the gaping crater where L’manberg used to be. Even Eret’s tower is wrapped in vines, the red mass stretching up to the sky. 

_ They’re everywhere. _

Did the egg cause this?

Slowly, Tommy begins picking his way across the labyrinth of vines. He tries to avoid touching them as much as possible, but it’s an impossible goal. There are vines too large for Tommy to avoid, too stubbornly in the way for Tommy to weave around. So Tommy clambers over them, awkwardly uses them to hoist himself up, carefully lifts them to move under them. Every time bare skin brushes vine, Tommy flinches, hating the sensation of the warm, rough plant against his skin. But he keeps moving, even when it gets to the point where he cannot avoid walking on the vines. The deeper and deeper he gets into the city, the thicker and thicker the tangle of vines become. It almost forms a carpet under his feet. 

“Tommy?”

Tommy’s head jerks up at the sound of his name. Grip on the dagger tightening, Tommy scans the vines for the source of the voice. There. On that- he thinks it’s a hill. Two figures. Skeppy and Antfrost, if he’s not mistaken. 

The moment Tommy’s eyes land on them, the sense of unease heightens. Something is definitely wrong. The last time he had seen Skeppy, Skeppy’s hoodie had been its usual soft blue. Not red. And Antfrost’s eyes had glinted blue. Not red. 

It’s the same shade of red as the vines. 

_ Don’t speak to anyone, _ Dream’s voice warns in his head.

Tommy averts his gaze, staring pointedly down as the vines underneath his feet. He doesn’t look up. If he ignores them, they’ll ignore him. They’ll leave him alone, he’ll do his job, he’ll leave, and then he’ll get his Tubbo back. 

Footsteps thud against the vines, getting louder and louder by the second. 

Fuck.

Not sure what else to do, Tommy adjusts his grip on the dagger and lifts his gaze. Sure enough, Skeppy and Ant are both moving towards him, leaping nimbly around and over vines. Neither of them seem bothered by the abundance of vines. 

_ This is bad, this is bad, this is bad, what do I do, I don’t know what to do, where’s Dream, Dream can protect me, I don’t know what to do- _

“Tommy, what are you doing here?” 

Ant stands right in front of him, head tilted to the side. By all appearances, he looks friendly. Quizzical. But his eyes are still that sickening red color. Tommy remains silent, the dagger shaking in his hand. 

“Is something wrong?” Ant sounds normal. Like he’s genuinely concerned. “I thought you were supposed to be in Snowchester with Tubbo. Did something happen?”

_ Yes. Something did happen. Tubbo’s dead and I have to blow up the egg to get him back. _

There’s a very dangerous looking trident latched to Ant’s back. Ant doesn’t make any moves to grab it, but that doesn’t reassure Tommy. Ant is not a warrior to be trifled with, even with his weapon sheathed. As Tommy slides back a step, Skeppy comes up next to Ant. He, unlike Ant, does have a sword unsheathed. 

_ Don’t speak to anyone. _

Something isn’t right. There’s something clicking in Tommy’s mind but it isn’t the right thing, he doesn’t understand it, those aren’t the pieces that should be lining up-

The final straw is when Tommy notices red veins snaking up Skeppy’s face.

Tommy shoves past the two men and bolts. Shouts erupt from behind him but Tommy doesn’t look back. All he can focus on is surviving and running.

Running, running, running.

He hasn’t ran like this in months. The last time he ran like this, he’d been running to get to L’manberg, running behind Tubbo, running towards the terrible screeches of withers and the  _ boom _ of TNT exploding. 

Run, run, run, run.

Tommy flies through the city like there are wings attached to his ankles. He doesn’t let the vines hinder him, leaping from spot to spot. Without care for the scrapes he knows he’s getting, Tommy ducks, rolls, twists, and leaps around the vines, months and months of war having engrained the habit in him. Don’t worry about tearing skin on a stray branch. Worry about survival. 

Ant’s trident implants itself in the vine just ahead of him. Alarms flash in Tommy’s mind, and he turns sharply. His feet skid on the unnatural surface of the vines, and without warning Tommy feels himself slip. 

And he falls. 

He hits the ground hard. Before Tommy can pull himself up, gravity takes hold and he’s rolling, tumbling across the vines. He can’t stop himself. There’s nothing to get purchase on. All Tommy can do is let himself roll until-

His head smacks against something hard, and Tommy’s world goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay okay this is absolutely the last time i split a chapter
> 
> heheh did this take the turn you thought it might?
> 
> kudos and comments always brighten up my day :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayup
> 
> If the cursed text triggers you, please be careful when reading this chapter
> 
> TW: death, blood, nightmares, possession

**_U̴̧͈̳͗ò̶̤̙ÿ̶̺̰̮́͒͘ ̸̺̩͗ë̶̞̲͓́r̷̛̫͉̻̂a̷̢̛͔͍̚ ̵̛̠̈́o̷̝̔h̶̘̑̀̋w̵̲̯̭͐͠?̴̧̛̳̋̚_ **

He’s surrounded by warmth. Eyes still closed, Tommy can feel his head throbbing painfully. But the warmth is intoxicating, distracting him from the pain. It reminds him of his family. 

**_U̴̧͈̳͗ò̶̤̙ÿ̶̺̰̮́͒͘ ̸̺̩͗ë̶̞̲͓́r̷̛̫͉̻̂a̷̢̛͔͍̚ ̵̛̠̈́o̷̝̔h̶̘̑̀̋w̵̲̯̭͐͠?̴̧̛̳̋̚_ **

Something cold snakes through the haze of warmth. Tommy shivers. He doesn’t like it. It feels strange and invasive, probing at his mind. No. That’s not right. It isn’t supposed to be there.

**_U̴̪͈̘̾O̸̻͌̄Ỵ̸̡̫͒̋̽ ̴͖̜̼̍̇͆E̶̢̺̭R̷͉̤͗̄Å̶͓̒̇ ̶̼͋̚Ǫ̴̫̚H̸̺̙̠̄̌͝W̴̯̖̕?̶̨̺͍͐̔_ **

Tommy jolts fully awake. The warmth is stifling, pressing in on all sides. It’s no longer comforting. The cold sensation is still gripping the edges of his mind. 

No. He doesn’t want it there. 

_ Get. out. _

The cold sensation disappears abruptly, leaving behind a strong sense of displeasure. A belated gasp slides out of his mouth, and Tommy’s eyes fly open. Slowly, the earth comes into focus around him. He’s propped up against a smooth surface, head tilted back. All he can see is red. Red vines, everywhere. 

No. No, he isn’t supposed to be here. He  _ shouldn’t _ be here. This is wrong. The coldness winding through his mind was wrong. This warmth is  _ wrong. _

Tommy makes a weak attempt at standing, bracing himself against the surface behind him. Instantly, a spike of pain drives through his skull and Tommy whimpers, slowly lowering himself back to the ground. A dark shape crouches in front of him, and Tommy recognizes it as Badboyhalo. 

A fleeting feeling of relief flashes across Tommy’s mind. Then the relief dissipates, replaced by wariness. Bad’s eyes aren’t red like Ant and Skeppy’s. But there’s still something off about him. Tommy can feel it in his bones.

“Tommy?” Bad asks slowly. “Can you hear me?”

Not sure how to respond, Tommy simply nods. Bad smiles. “Good, good. How do you feel?” 

“Head hurts,” Tommy mumbles. Dream’s order echoes through his mind:  _ Don’t speak to anyone. _

“Hmm.” Bad looks faintly disappointed. “Anything… else?”

His clothing. The familiar red of Bad’s clothing is pure white, like the color’s been leached out of it. 

Tommy doesn’t like that.

He doesn’t answer the question. Bad’s brow furrows. “Tommy. Do you feel anything else?”

Again, Tommy stays silent. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Ant and Punz. Both have weapons drawn. Tommy flexes his good hand, and realizes that the dagger Dream had given him is gone. He’s weaponless. Defenseless. 

The small bundle of TNT is still stowed away in his pocket. 

Bad makes a small humming noise again. “I see. Punz, can you help me for a moment?”

Tommy tenses, watching Punz slink closer. Punz’s eyes are solid red, just like Ant’s. Tommy’s starting to hate the color. It feels wrong. Unnatural. Evil.

Without warning, Punz lunges forward. Tommy yelps in alarm and tries to scramble away. Too slow. Punz catches him around the chest, pinning Tommy’s arms at his side. Tommy thrashes to no avail, the wild movement only making Punz tighten his grip. Punz lets him flail for another moment, then forces Tommy to turn around. And Tommy catches his first glimpse of the surface he’d been leaning against. 

Now he sees why Dream used the word ‘egg.’ It’s the only possible way it could be described. 

The egg is huge. Over twice as tall as Tommy. It almost looks like it’s pulsating, a warm red glow throbbing just under the shell. It’s comforting and revolting at the same time. Warm and cold. Good and evil. All at once.

Tommy doesn’t realize that he’s gone still until Bad’s hand closes around his wrist, claws digging into skin. Tommy starts, and Bad forces his uninjured hand up, pressing Tommy’s palm flat against the surface of the egg.

**_Y̷̹̤͙͌m̷̘̻͋̑̓m̷̹͉̄̓͌̇ơ̵̟͓͈̭̋̅͝ẗ̶̻́͜,̵͔͔̥͑͒ ̵͙͛̄͝͝o̵̩̙̙͍̍͘̕l̸̥̺̻̺͔͂̑̕͝l̸͂̍͑ͅe̶̤͚͂͌͝h̴͕̖̒̍͌.̵̖͂̍_ **

The words roar in his head, overshadowing every other thought. Tommy stays dead still, heart pounding. He’s touching the egg. He’s touching it with his bare hand. His hand is pressed against the egg, he can feel the warmth under his fingers, that warmth is seeping up his arm, the cold is back in his mind- 

Bad releases his wrist and steps back, although Punz’s grip never relaxes. Without Bad’s prompting, Tommy keeps his hand on the egg.

**_T̶͙̞̄̓̊́n̴̠̟̺͛a̶̺̒̒̓̚w̵͓̙̤̳͠ ̵̲͖͎̣̌̈́̈̎ụ̴̜͚͉́̾̕͜ỏ̸͎̠̺͒͋̓͜ȳ̶̥̠̹́̔͘ ̴͓̖̓̈́͒o̴̧̭̠̲͚̎͐̔d̵̨̩̼̼̉̍̽̉ ̶̨͘̚t̷̡̆̒̽͆ă̸͈̲̬h̸̞͊̓͑̿̒w̵̫̣̫̘̄̈́̄͘ͅ?̴̳͔̩̏̋̇_ **

The voice is strange. Tommy doesn’t understand the language. It’s not like the language that Dream used to bring Friend back. That language was breathy, rhythmic, almost soothing. This language is different. This language is strange and dark, grating against Tommy’s mind. Starkly different that the language that brought Friend back.

_ Brought Friend back. _

_ Tubbo. _

_ I have to blow up the egg or Tubbo is gone. _

Instantly the voice pushes at Tommy’s mind.  **_Ẽ̷̮̺m̸̛̺͈̝͖̟̓ ̵͇̦̽̇o̵̧͇̮̼̓͘͝t̵̨͓̀̏̌ ̴͔̫̳͇̂́n̸̳͓͙͗̅̄̕͜ȋ̶̠̳̥̼̺̃̀͘ ̴̻̱͙̤̑͗e̶̦̹͈͂̔̈́̈͠ṽ̷͎̺̩̰͔̂i̸̜̣̓̆̾̋͜g̴͓͓̎ ̴͉͛̌͛͑ţ̸̫̹̼͎̓̎͐͘ṣ̴̲̹̐̽̀̐ṷ̴̥̰̹̦͐̈́̍̎j̵̨͉͍̜̻̓̈͘.̶̞̏̅̒͠ ̶͚͒͑͜K̴̪̕c̶͈̺̣͗̍̎a̷ͅb̸̘̯̗̍̒͑̕ ̸̗̝̦̩͐͛͑̈́͝o̸̜̩̟͐̃̊b̶̢̥̮͛͜ͅb̸̼̿̐u̴̮̤̬̓ẗ̷͈̩̊͆͒͝ͅ ̸̺̇̄̎͛͆g̸͎̰̓̈͒͠͠n̷̫͇̋̋i̴̛̜̳̯̠͗̓͜r̷̝͓͌̅̓b̶̖̦̟̂̓͐̂͜ ̵̛̛͕̹̃l̸̡͎̰͚̋l̶͉̟͕̦̑̃ï̵͇̥̔̂ẘ̴͖ ̶̢̐̏̔̕i̸͖̞͐͌.̷͎̼͖͎̾_ **

He can’t understand the words. They sound wrong, forced, unnatural. Tommy doesn’t want the voice in his head.

Destroy the egg and get Tubbo back.

Tommy has to destroy the egg.

For Tubbo.

**_Ơ̶̼̪̭̌̎̕͜b̸̟̖͑͊͊̆̕b̷͔̖̫̈̈̐͂́ǘ̷̮͕̯̘̩̆̽ṱ̴̱͋̽̽͂̚ ̵̥̖͒̓̏r̸̰͔̹̿͒͌ų̷̪̤̫̦͌̽̾͠ò̷̹̚y̸̤̥͉̌̓̒̉͑ ̷̙͓̬̦͓̏u̷̥̾̽͗͜o̵͇͆͒y̴̯͔̮͓͋͐͒̌͜͝ ̵̼͔͂̎̄̕ģ̷̬̫̚n̵̩̄̔i̵͊̽͜͝r̴̛̝̥̟͓̠̈́̿̾b̴̡̯̙̹̽̓͒̌͌ ̷̡͍̱̈́̓̕ͅl̶̩̪̔̀͋͜l̶̥̪͕̰̥̍̊͐͝i̷͇̦̞̓w̴̬̞̦͖̒ͅ ̴̛̛̲͇̘̜̘i̴̢̟̠̝͊͑ ̵̕͝ͅy̸̹̒l̸͇͇͊̆͑n̵̞̜͚͂̇̍̈́̏o̴̧̡̮̪͝ͅ.̴̨̧̫̞̬̏́̽̀̾ ̴̫̒K̴̨̥͔̭̣͊̍̀c̷̯̙͙͊a̸͈̐b̷̨̦̥̒͌͌̑̉ ̵̩̩̰̩̙̕m̷̥̉̀̽̊ỉ̸̗̫̥ͅh̶̗̗̒̊̅ ̵̛̯̠̖̉̈́̑̈́g̴̪̫̈́͜n̶̳͙͕̬̯͛i̴̲͉͍̝͜r̸̢̥̺͖͐̍͐ͅb̵̼̩̓̊͌̂̕ ̷͇͍̭̑́̋̚͝ǹ̴̬̮̫̘a̵͚̣̦͇̞͊͛̒̃͛c̷̭̥̓̆̈ ̸͙̊́̒i̶͕̍͊ ̸̦̫͔̜͙͑̿͗̉͒y̶̢̜͑̈́͑̊͠l̷̝̲͇̤̲̋̔̈̐n̸̤̟̘̐̂̓̊̕o̷̤̩̙͝ͅ.̴̫̒͒̉̎ ̶̻̯͕͑̾Ő̶̢͎̫̮̔͗̏̆͜ṋ̷͔̫͙̺̃͌.̸͓͍̭̜͋̊̔ͅ_ **

He doesn’t know how much time he has left.

Tommy has to destroy the egg  _ now. _ While he still has the chance.

He’ll destroy the egg. And Dream will bring back Tubbo.

**_M̵̝̻̼͇̉̈́͘͜͝Á̸̧͖̼͎͔ ̷̡̙͚̝͐Į̷̞̞͙̲͌͒ ̶̫̣͈̚͜N̶͖̳͕͈̒̽͜Ä̵̟̘͐͗̄H̷̺̐̈͂̽̒T̸̻̭̓̓̕ͅ ̶̱̟͂͂͜L̵̦̗͉̺̈́̑̿̔̃U̵̠̕F̷̛̹̤͐̆͜R̸̨̛̤̼̔͋̂Ē̵̹̟͗W̴̛̝͉̤̳͋̌Ọ̴̢̪̣͙̽P̵͇̝̈̆̃͝ ̶̨̨̪̦̒̍E̷̫͛̏Ṛ̷͙̝̲͆͋͑͛͠Ǫ̶̹̯̎̾̍̀̎M̷̬̹̠̺̓̌̕ ̷̼͙͓̘̂̽͘͠ͅĘ̸͎̖̅͌R̶̭̰̱̤̐͝ͅ'̸̺̊̍Ṳ̷͕O̵̳̪̔̐̃̂ͅY̴̘̊̈́͆ ̵̱̱̟̞͋̊̑͘K̵̤̎ͅN̵͈̈́͌̌̐͠Į̵͉͙̈͜H̶̱͎̪͉͂̅T̵̛̤̼͙͚͌̓ ̵̨̞͊͒͋̌Ű̵̜̪̙̕͘O̸̬̤͛̎̾͘Ẏ̴̠̎͜ ̷̡̰͓̤̺̄̅Ò̷̻͉͙͇̅̂̿̚D̵̛̞͉̟̣̬̽͂̎̑?̷̜͈̻̞̘́̈̈́_ **

To the side, Tommy sees Bad flinch. At the same time, Punz’s grip loosens ever so slightly.

Tommy sees the opportunity and takes it.

Thrashing with renewed vigor, Tommy slams his head back into Punz’s nose. Punz grunts, his hold on Tommy loosening even more. With one final twist, Tommy breaks free of Punz’s grip. Ignoring Skeppy’s shout, Tommy pulls out the bundle of TNT and darts towards the puddle of lava barely five yards away. He doesn’t have flint and steel. But lava will do.

**M̷͕͈̜̲̎͒Ḯ̶̖̻̔H̷̠̊̐̉̉͒ ̷̧̦̺͕͕̃̇P̷̢̫̉̎͐̏͌O̶̘̙̬͂̐͑͝T̴̘̱̤͔̖̄̕S̶̰̃̂̾̚.̴̢̪͔̥͕͛̽**

Tommy falls to his knees next to the lava, fumbling to get the fuse of the TNT into the liquid rock. This could be his only chance. But he’s butchering it, his useless hand is slowing him down, he can barely keep from dropping the TNT. He has to do this. Tommy has to do this now or he loses Tubbo forever. If the book burns, it’s all over. 

So the egg has to burn first. 

At last, the fuse catches, fire sparking at the end of the twine. Tommy whirls around, launching to his feet-

The butt of a trident strikes his wrist. Hard. Knocking the TNT out of his hand. Tommy lets out an agonized cry, pain shooting up his arm, and clutches his hand to his chest. Something hits the back of his knees, and Tommy collapses. No. No, he has to get the TNT back, he has to make sure it blows up the egg. Frantically, Tommy tries to get up.

_ BOOM. _

Tommy’s flattened to the ground by the force of the explosion. Heat rushes over him and Tommy yells, automatically flipping to press his belly into the ground and covering his neck with his hands. 

_ Explosions. _

The memories hit him like a truck.

Fleeing with Wilbur, Tubbo, and Fundy at his side, trying to run as the ground underneath them exploded, Dream’s laughter ringing out behind them.

Screaming as L’manberg exploded before his very eyes, cradling Tubbo, this time hearing the echo of Wilbur’s laughter as Phil put a sword through his second son’s back.

Watching helplessly as Dream dropped a stick of TNT onto Tommy’s belongings.

Pleading for Dream to stop while Logsteadshire exploded around him, the furious tone of Dream’s voice while Tommy cowered back.

Shouting up at Technoblade, shielding Tubbo with his own body, staggering as TNT rained from the sky, listening to Philza’s wild cackles. 

Clutching on to Tubbo, unable to look away as Dream blew up their weapons and armor, the only things that had protected them.

Tubbo.

The explosion’s stopped. His ears ring painfully, his mind dazed and slow. Tommy struggles to his knees, bringing his hands up to his ears. They come away streaked with blood. 

Did he do it?

Did he destroy the egg?

Tommy looks up, and is immediately met with a kick from Ant. The kick sends him sprawling and Tommy gasps, the wind knocked out of him. Get up. He has to get up. Tommy pushes himself up on his elbows, and Ant’s boot comes down heavily on his chest. Ant presses down, and his weight forces Tommy flat against the ground. No. This is a dangerous position. He flails under Ant’s boot, but Ant simply presses harder, eliciting a breathless wheeze from Tommy. 

“What was that?” Ant hisses down at Tommy. “What did you just try to do?”

“Get off me- let go- I wasn’t trying- get  _ off-” _ Tommy shoves ineffectively at Ant’s boot. “Let GO, I wasn’t-”

“He tried to blow up the Egg.” Skeppy’s voice is monotone, barely audible through the ringing in Tommy’s ears. “Didn’t he.”

Ant’s heel digs deeper into Tommy’s chest. The force is starting to prevent Tommy’s chest from rising, and Tommy claws weakly at Ant’s boot. The pressure doesn’t relent, continuing to press Tommy into the ground.

Now Punz’s voice breaks through. “But he wouldn’t even think about pulling a stunt like that unless…”

Bad enters Tommy’s line of vision. The demon crouches over Tommy, studying him. Tommy bares his teeth in a weak snarl, but Bad ignores it. “That would be… problematic,” Bad says slowly, almost musingly. 

“We could have another Sam on our hands,” Ant interrupts, not letting up on the pressure against Tommy’s chest. “Or even another Quackity.”

Bad shakes his head, scrutinizing Tommy’s face. “No. Both of them had a reaction after touching the Egg. Tommy didn’t.” 

Black is starting to creep in at the edges of Tommy’s vision. Ant is crushing him. He’s being crushed, it’s hard to breathe, too hard, he can feel his ribs bending, they’re going to snap if this continues-

Suddenly, the pressure on his chest eases. Tommy sucks in air, already feeling his ribcage ache with the expansion. “Don’t kill him,” Bad snaps at Ant. “Not yet. Not if he can still be convinced.”

Tommy hears Ant snort, but nevertheless the boot on his chest disappears. Lacking the strength to get up, Tommy remains on the ground. He continues gasping in air as Punz says, “So that’s a-”

“Get him in the box,” Bad confirms. “Let the Egg decide.”

Hands close around Tommy before he has a chance to scramble away. This time it’s not just Punz holding him. Ant’s hands are on him too, the two men hauling Tommy to his feet. Tommy struggles for a moment before letting himself go limp in their grasp. At the edge of his vision, he sees the hole where his TNT had gone off. It’s big, big enough to have destroyed the egg.

But it didn’t.

That was the only bundle of TNT that Dream had given him. He has no other means to blow up the egg. 

No. No, no, no, no, no, no,  _ no. _ If Tommy can’t blow up the egg, then Dream burns the book. 

And he’ll never get his Tubbo back.

_ No. _

Whatever happens, he can’t lose Tubbo.

Tommy twists in Ant and Punz’s grip, kicking out frantically. “NO! No, I can’t- I have to-”

“Be quiet, Tommy.” Bad’s voice is sharp, edged with venom.

“NO!” Tommy shrieks. “NO, I HAVE TO DESTROY IT, PLEASE, IF I DON’T HE’LL BE GONE, HE’LL BE DEAD FOREVER, PLEASE-!”

Managing to wrench his arm out of Punz’s hold, Tommy swings at Ant. The cat hybrid simply leans back, and Tommy hits nothing but air. He stumbles, put off-balance, and Punz recaptures his wrist. Tommy thrashes harder. And Punz’s fingers dig directly into the wound in Tommy’s hand, pushing deep into the already mangled hole.

_ Pain.  _ White-hot pain lancing up the length of Tommy’s arm. Streaks of white splinter across Tommy’s vision, and an agonized, keening wail escapes his mouth. He thought the pain was gone. He thought his hand was deadened to the pain. He thought the nerves were destroyed, ruined, damaged to the point where they no longer felt anything. But there’s pain, pain racing up his arm, pain taking over his mind, pain consuming Tommy’s entire world-

**_E̴̱̺͕̅͠ͅs̶̛̤͙͓͐a̷̛͈̞̼͌̍̈e̴͉̳̒̅̂̚͝c̸̨͙̲̦̻̊͂͋̕ ̴͉̑͌̍͐ḽ̵͐͜l̴͇͒ï̸̹̤͎̗w̷̰̞͋͂̅ ̷̛͈̻͈͝n̷̢̥̒͌i̴̩͉̱̹̓â̵̼̗̮p̵̹̥̔͋̌͘ ̶̤̹̲͙̐͋̿̀̌ë̸͇͎͇̼͈́͝h̴̢̨͓̒̽͊t̵͍͔̩̦̑ ̸̪̾̈́̅͒̂d̵̗̮͓͐̽͜n̸̠̔͝ą̵̼̜̏͛̋̕ ̶̦̫̏͒͝ḛ̶͕̲̀m̴̬͒̏ ̸̨̢̖̘͌o̸̤̔̄͌́͠t̷̝̽̆̍̽͠ ̷̥͛̓̾̔̓ṇ̶̡͍̰̬̚i̷̝̋̎̈̎ ̴̛̱̰͕̜͋͝e̵͙̗̰̋͛̆͊ͅv̷̲̌̉̌̑̌ĭ̶̥̦̱̖̹g̸̡̪̳̝̥͊̀̈̕.̷̧͉͎̑ͅ_ **

Gradually, with agonizing slowness, the pain starts to subside. A low whine builds in the back of Tommy’s throat, his vision still sliding in and out of focus. Punz’s fingers have worked themselves out of Tommy’s hand, but it still hurts like  _ hell. _ Feeling himself being dragged across the vines, Tommy lifts his head the slightest bit.

The scarlet surface of the egg is right next to him. Alarm rushes through Tommy, and he attempts to jolt away from it. “Wait- I can’t- please, I  _ have  _ to-”

“Stop struggling,” Punz says flatly. “It’ll only make it worse for you.”

“No, please,  _ please, _ I can’t, I have to destroy it, if I don’t then Tubbo’s dead forever-” Tommy digs his heels into the ground, trying futilely to stop Ant and Punz from dragging him farther. “PLEASE!”

Tommy fights. He thrashes, he struggles, he kicks, he punches, he even bites. Tommy tries his hardest, he tries to jerk free, he tries to kick at the egg and break its shell with his boot, he tries every single dirty trick that Wilbur had taught him, he tries every single move that Techno had showed him in case Dream ever tried to take Tommy, he tries every single strategy he’d learned from Phil, he tries everything he’s learned over a lifetime of war and battle. Nothing works. Nothing makes Ant and Punz let go. Nothing makes them stop. Tommy can’t escape them. He’s pinned like a fly to flypaper, unable to fly away, stuck,  _ trapped. _

**_Ẽ̴͕̺͍̯̽͋͜Ṉ̷̡̼́̔I̶̮͈͖̤͋͑̌M̶̪̅̔̂̊̅͜ ̴̺͈̙̅e̵̹̥͓͌ͅͅb̶̠̟̬̈́ ̶̱̹̝̋l̵̹͍̆l̴͙͗͑͗͝ị̸̮̫͋ẅ̵͓̹̣̹̣́ ̴̨͇͓̩̔͂͜ụ̴̟̗̦̓̇̑̈́ö̶̤͍̖́̅͌͝ͅy̴̢͎̭̯̫̆.̶̮̄͌̓͝_ **

Box. There’s a box on top of the egg. Small and made purely of obsidian. That’s what Ant and Punz are dragging him towards. No, no, no, no, no. Tommy doesn’t want to go into the box. He  _ can’t _ go into the box. If he does, he won’t be able to get out. Tommy will be trapped there. He’ll be trapped there, with no chance of destroying the egg. And if he doesn’t destroy the egg for Dream, then Dream’s going to burn the book.

Tommy bucks, forcing his feet flat against the edges of the obsidian and locking his knees. “NO! I HAVE TO DESTROY IT, I HAVE TO GET RID OF IT, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, IF I DON’T THEN HE’S GOING TO BE GONE-”

Gentle hands card through his hair and the words stick in Tommy’s throat. “Don’t worry, Tommy,” Bad says soothingly. “It’ll be over soon. Accept the Egg, and nothing bad has to happen.”

The feeling of Bad’s hands running through his hair is dangerously comforting. Intoxicating. It shouldn’t feel like this. Bad’s touch shouldn’t be comforting, it shouldn’t be this familiar, it shouldn’t be this reminiscent of Philza’s calming hands. Bad is not his friend, not anymore. But subconsciously, Tommy finds himself relaxing into the touch.

Without warning, he’s shoved forward. Tommy lets out a choked gasp, knees buckling, and tries to jam his elbows against the obsidian. 

Too late. 

Tommy’s thrown into the box with such force that his head slams into the opposite wall with a horrible  _ crack. _ Before he knows it, there’s obsidian behind him, closing off the entrance.

_ No. _

No. No. No. No.  _ No. _

“NO! NO, STOP, LET ME OUT!  _ LET ME OUT!  _ NO, NO, NO, PLEASE, I CAN’T- PLEASE, I HAVE TO OR HE’S GONE!” 

Ignoring the way his vision spins, Tommy stumbles to his feet and throws himself at the obsidian trapping him. It holds fast. Rage and fear boils in his gut, and Tommy tries again, ramming his shoulder into the obsidian. “LET ME OUT LET ME OUT PLEASE YOU HAVE TO LET ME OUT! YOU HAVE TO LET ME OUT! DREAM’S GOING TO BURN IT HE’S GOING TO BURN IT AND I’LL NEVER SEE-”

Tubbo’s name refuses to leave his mouth, twisting itself into a horrible gag of pain and grief. All it allows to come out is a strangled, inhuman wail. Tommy flings himself at the obsidian again. And again. And again. Again. He isn’t going to give up on Tubbo. He  _ refuses _ to give up on Tubbo. Tommy  _ will _ find a way to save him, he will find a way to get Tubbo back. He has to.

A loud  _ pop _ reverberates through the box and pain explodes though Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy howls in pain, immediately drawing back from the obsidian and clamping his hand to his arm. His arm hangs at his side, limp and unresponsive. Gritting his teeth, Tommy turns and slams his other shoulder against the obsidian. He can’t stay in here. He doesn’t care if he gets hurt, he doesn’t care about the state of his arm, he doesn’t care that hurts almost as badly as when Dream drove a dagger through his hand, he just has to get out, get out of this box and blow up the egg, blow up the egg and save Tubbo, he has to do this for Tubbo-

Bad leans down, putting himself on level with Tommy. “You stay here, Tommy. Don’t try to escape, because you can’t. You’ll be staying right here, on top of the Egg, until you listen.”

“No-” A new wave of pain sweeps through Tommy’s shoulder and he flinches back. “Please, you can’t- I can’t stay here, I have to destroy the egg, you don’t  _ understand-!” _

“Have fun, Tommy,” Bad says gleefully. He straightens up, turning to walk away.

“No. No, no, please, PLEASE DON’T, PLEASE, I HAVE TO GET HIM BACK, DON’T FUCKING LEAVE ME HERE! WAIT-” 

They’re gone. All four of them. 

Tommy’s stuck in the box. 

No. No. No, no, no, no,  _ no. _

A cascade of pleas and curses pour out of Tommy’s mouth as he hurls himself at the obsidian again and again. His injured shoulder burns like fire, burns like there’s lava being poured over it, but Tommy keeps going. No. He can’t give up. There has to be a way to break the obsidian, even with a useless hand and an equally useless arm. He can break the obsidian, he just has to  _ think. _ There must be some way he can get out. 

The agony in his shoulder is growing with every attempt he makes to break through the obsidian. Tommy wails, and without thinking he slams his injured shoulder against the obsidian. 

The pain is blinding. Excruciating. And Tommy blacks out.

When he loses consciousness, he dreams. 

_ Tommy sits with Tubbo on the bench, Mellohi playing quietly to the side. Tubbo’s laughing at something, maybe something Tommy said, maybe something else. Tommy grins, chuckling along with him.  _

_ He hasn’t seen this version of Tubbo in so long. The version of Tubbo that existed before and during the revolution. The version that doesn’t have burn scars stretching up the side of his face. The version whose eyes are constantly bright and happy, whose eyes don’t mask the sadness, the fear, the stress behind them. The version that doesn’t tense at every unexpected sound. The version whose shoulders aren’t slumped from carrying the weight of the world. _

_ This is the version of Tubbo that existed before the war and the bloodshed and the betrayal.  _

_ Tommy turns, cutting off Tubbo’s words, and wraps Tubbo in a hug. Tubbo makes a bemused noise, but returns the hug anyways.  _

_ It’s nice. _

_ Comforting.  _

_ Genuinely comforting. _

_ He could stay like this forever. Tommy could cradle his brother to his chest and keep him safe there, never having to let go.  _

_ A warm hand descends on his shoulder, and Tommy flinches reflexively. He looks up, still clutching on to Tubbo. _

_ Wilbur grins down at him. Solid instead of translucent. Warm instead of cold. Flushed instead of pale.  _

_ Alive instead of dead.  _

_ Tommy relaxes and returns Wilbur’s grin. “You’re here.” _

_ His brothers.  _

_ Tommy missed this. He missed them. He missed being surrounded by family. _

_ His shoulder is starting to ache. Tommy ignores it. It doesn’t belong in this moment. _

_ “I missed you. Both of you,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and basking in the warmth the presence of his brothers brings.  _

_ The ache in his shoulder is getting fiercer, demanding his attention. Tommy winces, rolling the joint in hopes of relieving the ache. Wilbur’s hand remains heavy on his shoulder. Tommy can feel his brother’s fingers tightening.  _

_ Carefully, Tommy tries to move his shoulder from under Wilbur’s hand.  _

_ Wilbur doesn’t let go. _

_ “Wilbur?” Tommy says hesitantly. “You’re hurting me.” _

_ Still, Wilbur doesn’t let go. Panic stirs in Tommy’s gut as Wilbur’s grip continues to tighten, the ache growing sharper and sharper. “Wilbur, let go.” _

_ It’s not an ache anymore. It’s pain. Actual pain as Wilbur’s fingers dig deeper and deeper into Tommy’s shoulder. He isn’t letting go. The hand on Tommy’s shoulder isn’t warm anymore, it’s cold as ice- _

_ Tommy looks up at his brother’s face and freezes. _

_ Wilbur’s eyes are far away, distant. He’s still smiling. But it’s no longer the genuine grin it had been before. This grin is wide, forced, strained. Tommy recognizes that grin. He  _ recognizes _ that grin. It’s the grin Wilbur had died with, it’s the grin he bore when he told Tommy he was going to blow up Manberg, it’s the grin that had greeted Tommy when he’d finally woken up after his fight with Technoblade- _

_ “You’re scared,” Wilbur murmurs. _

_ The words feel like an icicle being driven through Tommy’s skull. “What?” he asks, voice shaking.  _

_ “You’re scared,” Wilbur repeats, tilting his head to the side. “You’re scared that people think differently of you. You’re scared of Dream.” _

_ Tommy jolts to his feet and his back hits stone. Tubbo’s no longer clutched in his arms, Tubbo’s no longer here at all. There’s stone, stone all around him, and Tommy recognizes it as Pogtopia. _

_ No. No, no, no, no. He can’t be back here. _

_ Wilbur’s trench coat billows out behind him as he leans closer, still gripping Tommy’s shoulder. His voice is quiet, barely audible. “You’re scared of losing Tubbo.” _

_ A wordless cry wrenches out of Tommy’s throat and he tries to pull away. Wilbur doesn’t relinquish his grip. It hurts. Wilbur’s hand on his shoulder hurts. Tommy can feel Wilbur’s nails through the thin fabric of his shirt, digging deep enough into flesh and skin to draw blood. Tommy wants him to  _ let go. __

_ “Wilbur, STOP!” _

_ Wilbur’s grin grows ever wider, tugging at the corners of his lips until the skin splits, until the grin tears up through his cheeks in an unnatural curve. Blood spills out of the splits, dribbling down Wilbur’s chin. But it isn’t red, the blood isn’t red, it’s blue, and there’s more of it trickling from Wilbur’s mouth. Tommy thrashes in his brother’s grip but he can’t get free, he doesn’t want to look but he can’t turn his head away, there’s a stain of blue spreading steadily across Wilbur’s chest, Tommy doesn’t want to see it, but Wilbur’s hand is trapping him in place, forcing Tommy to watch as the deep stab wound materializes in his chest. _

_ And then there’s the explosion. Rolling over Tommy, burning his skin, loud enough to make his hearing go out, powerful enough to almost tear Tommy from Wilbur’s grasp, and Tommy’s screaming, screaming his throat raw as Wilbur’s laughter echoes above it all, and suddenly it’s not Wilbur holding Tommy’s shoulder, it’s Dream, porcelain mask smooth and impassive as Logstedshire- no, not Logstedshire, L’manberg- explodes around them.  _

_ “You can’t do that, Tommy,” Dream whispers. His voice pounds in Tommy’s ears, overtaking any other thought. “I thought we were friends. I trusted you, Tommy. And what did you do?” _

_ Tommy shakes his head frantically. “No, no, no, we are friends, we are friends, please, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, please don’t-” _

_ “You  _ betrayed _ me.” Dream’s voice is ripe with disapproval, disappointment. “You didn’t listen. This is your own fault, Tommy.” _

_ The hand clenching Tommy’s shoulder releases abruptly and Tommy falls back. “Wait, Dream, PLEASE-” _

_ Dream’s sword is unsheathed, held down at his side. Tommy can see blood glistening on the blade, and his breath hitches. No. There’s a body at Dream’s feet, crumpled and still, broken beyond repair, and Tommy knows- _

_ Tubbo. _

_ Tommy wails, seizing his dead brother and pulling Tubbo close to his chest. It’s a sickening parody of what he had done mere moments before, except then Tubbo had been alive, Tubbo had been fine, Tubbo had hugged him back, there was no slit in Tubbo’s throat, no blood staining his clothes and the ground around them, everything about Tubbo had screamed life. But he’s dead, Tubbo’s dead, his body is cold and motionless in Tommy’s arms, his skin pale and waxy, the cut in his throat still leaking blood-  _

_ “Your own fault, Tommy.” _

_ There’s another presence, someone behind him, wrapping their arms around Tommy, and Tommy flails desperately away from the touch. But they don’t let go, they keep their arms wrapped around him, they’re too small to be Dream, and Tommy recognizes the touch but no, that’s not possible, he’s gone, his body is in Tommy’s arms, but there’s a familiar voice whispering in Tommy’s ear- _

_ “You have to let me go.” _

Tommy wakes up to hands clamped around his arms. A choked gasp slides out of his mouth and Tommy thrashes wildly. No, no, no. They’re only going to restrain him, trap him, hurt him. He doesn’t want to get hurt, he wants Wilbur to let go, he wants Dream to let go, but Wilbur’s gone and Dream won’t help him, Tommy’s supposed to be safe, but Antfrost is pulling him forward and Tommy can do nothing but frantically try to escape.

Trying isn’t enough.

Ant drags him from the box and shoves Tommy forward. Tommy stumbles, and lands on his knees. Before he can try and scramble up again, the sharp prongs of a trident touch his back, poised to drive through his ribs. Tommy freezes in place, alarms ringing in his mind. He can feel himself hyperventilating, can feel the trident pressing against skin with every rapid rise of his chest, and frantically tries to calm his breathing. 

Clawed fingers forces Tommy’s head up, and Tommy finds himself staring into Bad’s white eyes. Tommy makes a choked noise, trying to wrench his head free. Bad doesn’t let go. “That’s disappointing,” Bad says vaguely. “Tommy, how do you feel about the egg now?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Tommy gasps out. “Get off, leave me alone-” 

Bad releases him and straightens up. “Hm. I thought a few hours would be enough.” 

A few hours? 

When Tommy had left the prison, it had been past noon. Dream had given him dusk as a deadline. 

_ If you’re not back by sundown, the book burns. _

Tommy’s heart sinks like a stone.

No. That can’t be right. Surely he still has time. Surely Dream hasn’t burned the book yet. Surely Tommy still has a chance to get his Tubbo back. 

_ It’s your fault. _

_ This is your fault. _

**_K̴̢̺͙̻̂̋̉͝c̶̡͔̞̗̜̈́̔̓̌a̴̦͌̐͐b̴̧̙͕̖̗̄ ̴̜̜̘͉͉̈́̏͋͐͠m̸̦̤̼͔̗̓̀͋͋ȋ̸̫̿̊̏̚h̵͈̜̼̃̍̃̆ ̴͔̙̖͓ğ̵̻̜̟̺n̶̖̩͚̿͂i̷̦̤̜͍̇r̷̛̩̱͘b̵̭̾̍ ̶̧̩̠͛͠ṋ̷̲͋͘ä̸͔͑c̷̝͓̍͐̃͋͂ ̴̺̺̞͇̗͊̽̉I̵̧̼̫̱͑͌̍̐ ̶̨̘͈̽̈́̔͘t̴̲̝͍̞͈̄̉̽̆ų̶͕̩̪̀͘b̷͙̦͙̊̏̈́͘.̴͖̈́ ̴̢̉Ę̷͎̼͇̀͒n̷̲̫̒͗̔̋̀o̴͈̩͇̚g̸̢̛̼̝͓̐̊ ̴̪̙̯̻̓̈́͜ș̷̠̯͎̪̓̒̇'̵̜͎͓͆͂̾ͅe̴̱̩̱̼̎̉͋h̴̛͕̰͇͌̔͌.̸̜̙̪̳̃͒͌̍̈́_ **

Deep in his heart, Tommy knows that the sun has set. The sun has set, and the book is gone. Tubbo is gone.

Tubbo is  _ gone. _

Tommy won’t get him back. 

He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s  _ gone, _ Tommy isn’t going to see him again, he won’t come back, Tommy will never get to speak to him again, they’ll never listen to music on the bench together again, they’ll never be together again because Tubbo’s gone, Tommy is  _ never  _ going to see Tubbo again- 

The cold sensation is back in his mind. Tommy doesn’t try to resist it or force it out. There’s no point. Tubbo is gone. Tommy has nothing left to live for.

**E̴̦̽̃̌͂i̶̜̲̳̎ḑ̵̧̺͉̿̎ ̵̭̠͙̒͌̀t̸̡̨̛͖̤͗͆͝s̷͖͈̓͑̉u̵̡͙̐̽̚̚m̷̢̺̭͜͝ ̷̪̖̠͐̐̿Y̶̢̪̟̝̑͠m̶̭͈̰͉̓̃͑m̶̹͛ȍ̵̻̟̮̏̏͘t̵͈͚͗͗.̴̭́ ̶̩̠̗̆͋̕Y̷̛͙o̶͖͈͇͋̓̎b̸̖͚̜͙̏̎͆̌ ̸̰̞̖̓̾͂͐͜ẻ̸͈͚͆͑͗h̶͇͖͔̘͑͛t̶̤͚̠̃́̍̚ ̶̹̩̗͕̇̇l̶͚̪̦̖͂͑͝ľ̸̛͎̗͇͙̇i̸̼̯̪̾̎͊͌k̵̬̣̊̔̄̈.̵̲̣͇͈͘**

Tubbo is gone.

There’s no point in trying to fight anymore.

So Tommy doesn’t fight.

He doesn’t fight against the hands that pull him into an upright position.

He doesn’t fight against the vines that twine around his wrists.

He doesn’t fight against the voice that snakes through his mind, whispering in a language Tommy doesn’t understand.

And Tommy doesn’t fight when the wickedly sharp tip of a netherite sword penetrates skin and pushes through his chest. 

_ It’s not your time to die, Tommy. _

Tommy blinks lazily. He’s lying on his side. Something hurts, but Tommy can’t tell what it is. He doesn’t care what it is.

_ It’s never my time to die. _

All Tommy sees is red. Red surrounding him. Red crawling up the walls. Red slithering through his mind. Red clouding his vision. Red staining the ground underneath him. 

He used to like the color red. 

Tommy’s body seizes up, and pain lances through his chest. Tommy lets out a soft moan, feeling the blade lodged inside his chest shift at the movement. He can  _ feel _ the sword inside him. He had felt it slide cleanly between ribs, he had felt his lungs freeze at the cold metal, and he feels it now as every labored breath jostles the sword and sparks a new flare of pain. 

He’s going to die here, isn’t he?

_ Tommy, I want you do to whatever your heart says you should do. _

He tried to save Tubbo. He tried, and he failed. Tommy couldn’t save Tubbo. He couldn’t save Tubbo, he couldn’t save Wilbur, and now he can’t even save himself.

The metallic tang of blood rises in the back of his throat. Tommy can’t choke it back, and blood dribbles out from between his lips. He’s dying. There’s no denying it. Tommy knows what dying feels like. He’s died twice before.

Not like this. This time it’s permanent. This time he won’t respawn.

He’s going to die alone. Alone and surrounded by enemies. 

_ Tommy, you need to hold on. Please. You can’t give up. _

Huh. That voice was different. Not an echo of the past. Not a cold, archaic whisper. That voice was familiar. 

Why would he hold on? There’s nothing he should stay for. No one he should stay to protect. The damage from the sword is going to kill him regardless. 

It’s ironic, in a way. Sword through the chest. Just like Wilbur. Killed as a punishment. Just like Tubbo. 

Tommy’s fine with dying, if he’s being honest. 

_ Please. Please hold on. Don’t let go. Help is coming, you just have to hold on. _

If he dies, he’s free. Free from Dream. Free to see Wilbur again. Free to see Tubbo again. 

Tommy’s breath rattles in his throat, shallow and faint. The red is starting to fade, and his eyelids feel heavier than they’ve ever been. His chest still hurts, but the pain has diminished. He’d barely notice it if it wasn’t for the blade stuck through his chest. 

He’s  _ dying. _

_ Tommy, PLEASE! _

Tommy smiles weakly at the sound of Tubbo’s voice. He’ll see Tubbo again. He’ll se Wilbur, and he’ll see Tubbo. The book is gone. Dream won’t be able to bring him back. Tommy can stay with Wilbur and Tubbo forever. 

The next rasp of breath doesn’t come. There’s an awful tug at something deep inside of him.

_ It was never meant to be. _

_ PLEASE! _

Tommy lets his eyes slip shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but there's no happy endings  
> not here and not now  
> this tale is all sorrows and woes  
> you may dream that justice  
> and peace win the day  
> but that's not how the story goes  
> :)
> 
> HOW WE FEELING GUYS? HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE RIDE!
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> TW: blood, death, manipulation

Tommy’s died many times before. 

Many of them were inconsequential. Light. Not permanent. No need to fear. Tommy’s been stabbed, he’s been shot, he’s drowned, he’s bled out, he’s fallen off towers and cracked his head open on the ground below, he’s been mauled by a wolf, he’s plunged into lava and burned to death, he’s been exploded to bits by creepers, he’s suffocated in sand, he’s collapsed due to a spider’s venom, he’s even been struck by lightning. 

None of those deaths held any real weight though. 

Every time, he came back. Tommy would lose consciousness, and wake up wherever he happened to set his spawn last. It took a matter of seconds. No matter how horrible the death was, no matter how gory it was, no matter how much of his blood was spilt, no matter how slow or  _ painful _ the death was, Tommy always bounced back. Ready to throw himself into the fight and die again. 

Deaths like those were just accepted as part of life. You die. You come back. Not quite unscathed, but with a good deal of injuries healed.

When Tommy had lost his first permanent life, things had changed. 

It had been in the Final Control Room. Tommy had eagerly opened the chest marked with his name, expecting weapons, armor, potions, something they could use. Of course, all four chests were empty. No one had noticed Eret press the button in the center of the room.

Everyone noticed it when the walls opened up, though. They had come from all sides, decked out in full netherite, weapons blazing with enchantments, and the colored steam of potions rising around them. It had clearly been a planned ambush. None of the L’manbergians stood a chance. 

Instinct kicked in, and Tommy tried to flee. He’d ducked Sapnap’s axe, and made a break for one of the niches in the wall where the Dream Team had emerged. For a split second, Tommy thought he could make it. Then Dream’s sword was sticking out of his chest, Tommy was choking on blood, someone was screaming, the sword was pulled out, and Tommy blacked out. 

This time, he didn’t wake up immediately. This time, Tommy felt like he was stuck in this haze of darkness, trying to push through sticky and tangled strands of nothing. 

Once everyone came to back in the camarvan, the mood had been somber. All four of them had felt it. They felt the struggle to get back. Tommy had been  _ scared. _ He hadn’t been sure if he’d be able to return to the world of the living this time. 

Eventually, Wilbur had proposed a theory. Death might not always be permanent. But it could be. We each have- had- three lives, Wilbur had said. Important things come in threes. And we’re all down to two.

Tommy had blocked out Wilbur’s words. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of losing his family forever. He’d seen them die before, even caused some of their deaths, but there will never be a time when he’ll see one of their bodies and think,  _ I am never going to see them again. _ Tommy refused to believe that. 

So he hadn’t felt worried, going into the duel with Dream not even a week later. A duel that Tommy had no chance of winning. A duel that Tommy threw himself into anyways. He could protect his family. Win the duel, and L’manberg goes free.

Tommy had listened to Wilbur count down. The moment Wilbur hit ten, Tommy had whipped around and fired. His arrow missed. Dream’s did not. Tommy had been knocked back into the lake by the force of the arrow. Ribbons of blood had streamed up through the water as Tommy sank. Tubbo had pulled him out, but enough damage had been done. Tommy lost consciousness and found himself back in the darkness. 

It was even more difficult that time. Tommy had slogged through the gummy threads for what felt like ages before breaking through and opening his eyes in the camarvan. 

Even so, Tommy still hadn’t fully believed Wilbur’s theory.

He only fully believed it when he watched Wilbur lose his third life right in front of him. 

After that, Tommy had been more careful. He’d been more cautious around mobs. He’d been slightly more wise about who he picked fights with. Knowing that Tubbo was also on his last life, Tommy had tried to keep Tubbo as close as possible. 

He failed. 

And now Tommy’s lost his third life. Just like Wilbur. Just like Tubbo. 

There’s something different about the darkness this time. The thicket of nothingness has tightened. Tommy presses against it tentatively. Immediately the darkness bristles, any gaps that had previously been there closing. 

It’s not letting him leave.

So he really is dead. He’s stuck here. In the darkness. 

Tommy pulls back, and immediately feels the web of darkness recede. Alright. Message received. Don’t try to go back. Stay here. Tommy’s fine with that. When he’s not trying to push through the darkness, it’s almost nice. When he isn’t trying to break through, the darkness is soft and silky. Like being submerged in a pool of ink. 

If this is the afterlife, this isn’t too bad.

If this is the afterlife, then that means-

“Tommy?”

Tubbo. 

Tommy turns around. And sure enough, he’s there. Frozen in place. Still in the same green shirt he’d died in. Blood dripping slowly from the cut in his throat. Eyes wide in disbelief and shock.

His Tubbo.

Tubbo opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but Tommy’s already barreling into him, catching his brother in a hug. “TUBBO!”

He’s got his Tubbo back.

His Tubbo. His best friend. His brother.

Tommy sinks to what passes as the ground, dragging Tubbo down with him. Tubbo is shaking in his arms, and Tommy clutches him closer. “I’m sorry,” he gasps out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, I was supposed to protect you, I’m sorry-”

“No.” Tubbo’s voice quivers, thick with sobs. “No, you’re not supposed to be here, you were supposed to survive, I was supposed to die and you were supposed to escape, I’m so, so sorry-”

Both of them are crying now. Tommy can feel Tubbo’s tears soaking through his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He’s hugging Tubbo. He thought he’d never do that again. Tommy had watched Dream slit Tubbo’s throat, had cradled Tubbo’s body, and had known that Tubbo would never hug him back.

But here they are.

In the afterlife.

On the ground, hugging each other.

Eventually, Tubbo pulls back. “I- I’m sorry. I wanted to see you, I really did, but Wilbur said- Wilbur said Dream would use me, use me to control you. I thought that my death would let you escape…”

Tommy ducks his head. “I tried to get you back. He promised he’d bring you back.”

Tubbo’s expression sombers. “He-”

“Tommy.”

Tubbo visibly stiffens. Tommy goes still at the voice.

That’s Wilbur’s voice.

A cold hand presses lightly on Tommy’s shoulder as Wilbur lowers himself to the ground next to them. Not seeming to pick up on the way Tommy recoils, Wilbur grins at him. “So. You’re actually dead.”

Not sure how to respond, Tommy nods. Wilbur chuckles. “I told you,” he remarks to Tubbo. “I told you, I felt a space growing.”

Tubbo looks away, lips thinning into a tight line. 

It unsettles Tommy. Unsettles and confuses him. He doesn’t know how to feel about Wilbur’s presence here. When Wilbur had visited him in his cell, Tommy had been relieved. Not only did he get to talk to someone again, but he had been able to truly talk to his older brother for the first time since Wilbur’s death. Wilbur had listened, had tolerated Tommy’s crying, had been  _ kind _ to him. But the nightmare is still fresh in Tommy’s mind. He remembers the way Wilbur’s fingers had dug into his shoulder. He remembers the way Wilbur had grinned down at him, cheeks splitting and blood dripping down his face. He remembers Wilbur’s maniacal laughter while the world exploded around them. And Tubbo’s reaction to Wilbur settling down besides them only adds to the confusion.

How does Tommy feel about Wilbur?

Wilbur doesn’t give Tommy a chance to decide. “How did you die?”

Subconsciously, Tommy brushes his hand over his chest. His fingers ghost across ripped fabric, and Tommy draws back. “Sword.” He hesitates, then says, “Like you, Wilbur.”

Wilbur’s silent for a moment. Then he laughs. “Did Phil stab you too?”

Tommy shakes his head vehemently. “No. It wasn’t Phil. Phil had nothing to do with this.”

“Was it Dream?” Tubbo asks quietly. 

No. But it was Dream’s fault. 

Tommy hunches his shoulders. “It was Badboyhalo. I tried to destroy the egg. They caught me. I didn’t make it out.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Tubbo inches closer and leans his head against Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy lets him, the weight familiar and comforting. It’s different than when Wilbur or Dream grab his shoulder. That was restraining, meant to hold and trap. But Tubbo resting his head on Tommy’s shoulder isn’t restraining. 

Wilbur reaches out, pressing his hand flat against Tommy’s chest. “Must’ve been quite the wound to leave a mark like this.”

Something’s wrong. Wilbur’s pressing too hard on his chest. Far too hard. It feels wrong, Wilbur’s fingers are curling in, and with a jolt of horror Tommy realizes that Wilbur’s fingers are pushing  _ into _ his chest. His fingers are pressing into the wound in Tommy’s chest, pushing into the hole caused by Bad’s sword. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels weird, it feels violating, it feels  _ wrong- _

Tommy jerks away, clutching at his chest. Wilbur sits back with a smirk, and Tubbo makes a small noise of concern. “Don’t,” Tommy chokes. “Don’t touch me, don’t do that, I don’t want you touching me-”

Wilbur laughs quietly. Tommy shudders violently, and Tubbo moves closer, carefully wrapping his arms around Tommy. Tommy shies away from the touch. Immediately Tubbo pulls back, expression a mixture of sadness and worry. Wilbur laughs again, louder this time; Tommy clamps his hands over his ears and curls in on himself. He remembers Wilbur’s laughter. Wilbur’s laughter, so often accompanied by the terrible  _ boom _ of TNT, the blistering pain of burns, the pounding in his ears, the awful sense of betrayal and fear taking over everything, until Tommy doesn’t  _ want _ to hear Wilbur’s laughter again.

“Stop it.” That’s Tubbo’s voice, surprisingly sharp. “Wilbur, stop.”

The laughter stops abruptly. Tommy slowly lowers his hands from his ears and looks up. 

Both Tubbo and Wilbur are standing up now. Tubbo’s planted himself firmly in between Wilbur and Tommy, arms crossed and glaring at Wilbur. Wilbur’s gaze flickers to Tommy, and Tubbo shifts to block Tommy from Wilbur’s view. “Stop it,” Tubbo repeats. “Leave him alone. He’s adjusting, he’s not used to it, he’s not used to being- to being  _ dead!” _

Tommy stands up slowly, despite the sharp ache spreading from his chest. Tubbo glances at him, and Tommy leans into the smaller boy. It’s a small, silent gesture, but Tommy knows that Tubbo understands it. Understands his unspoken gratitude. 

They used to communicate like this all the time.

A squeeze of the hand. A tap on the foot. A tensing of muscles. It’s like their own language. Their own means of communication when verbal communication was not an option. It’s saved them many times. All Tommy had to do was tap his fingers against Tubbo’s palm and both would run. Split off in separate directions. Slowly come back together and reach safety. All Tubbo had to do was rest his head on Tommy’s shoulder, and the apology was received. 

He missed this, this secret communication of theirs.

Wilbur draws himself up to his full height, studying the two boys. Tommy feels Tubbo’s hand brush against his, and he clutches it without a second thought. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed by Wilbur. The older man raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, Wilbur says, “You have to accept it. There’s no leaving this place.”

“The book.” 

The words slip out of Tommy’s mouth automatically, outside of his control. Wilbur eyes him with interest, and Tubbo’s head turns to look at Tommy. Aware of all the eyes on him, Tommy drops his eyes to the ground. “The book. The book could bring you- could bring us back,” he mumbles. “I’ve seen it. It works. Dream brought Friend back with it.” 

Tubbo’s hand tightens on Tommy’s. “So Dream could-”

“The book is gone,” Tommy says flatly. “He burned it. At dusk. I didn’t destroy the egg, so Dream burned the book.” 

There’s a split second of silence. Then Wilbur breaks it. “You let him hold it over you till the end.”

It isn’t a question. So many things aren’t questions with Wilbur. And yet, like so many times before, Tommy finds himself nodding slowly in response.

Another brief moment where no one speaks. 

“You let him control you with the book.” Wilbur speaks slowly. “We warned you not to, and you still did.”

Fear pricks at the back of Tommy’s mind. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t- I couldn’t let- please-”

Wilbur lets out a derisive snort. “I warned you. You didn’t listen. And you paid with your life.” 

Tommy keeps his eyes downcast. 

He disappointed Wilbur. 

Wilbur watches him for a long moment. When Tommy doesn’t say anything, Wilbur turns on his heel and strides away. Tommy glances up, automatically shifting forward, but Wilbur doesn’t look back. Before Tommy can take another step after him, Tubbo squeezes his hand. “He’s not going to say anything else,” Tubbo says quietly. “You… you know how he is.”

Tommy’s shoulders slump. “I thought he might be different,” he says, keeping his voice low. 

Tubbo shrugs. “Not much has changed. He’s just… Wilbur.”

Wilbur.

Not Ghostbur.

Wilbur.

The same Wilbur that died with a smile on his lips. The same Wilbur that blew up L’manberg. The same Wilbur that encouraged Tommy to put his crossbow between Schlatt’s eyes and pull the trigger. The same Wilbur that laughed while Technoblade beat Tommy to near death in a pit. The same Wilbur that stood by and did nothing as Technoblade shot a firework into Tubbo’s chest. The same Wilbur that tried to blow up Manberg at the festival. The same Wilbur that grinned at Tommy from behind the safety of Dream’s sword. The same Wilbur that tilted his head back and laughed while Tommy shouted at him that what he was doing was wrong. The same Wilbur that had fallen to his knees in front of the wreckage of the walls. The same Wilbur that collapsed to the ground with an arrow stuck in his back. The same Wilbur that pulled Tommy aside and quietly explained that they were going to rig the election. The same Wilbur that gloated in Dream’s face over a war that wasn’t truly won. The same Wilbur that was willing to let his family die for L’manberg. The same Wilbur that started L’manberg.

“Yeah,” Tommy repeats slowly. “Just Wilbur.” 

For a long moment, neither of them speak. Neither of them know what they would say. 

Eventually, they start walking.

Tommy isn’t sure what Tubbo hopes to accomplish by this. The nothingness thickens and stretches taut whenever he brushes against it. There’s nowhere to walk to. At some point, Tommy realizes it’s like a dome. A cage of darkness, keeping them trapped there. 

He doesn’t know when he starts talking. Only that he does start talking.

At first, it’s light. Nothing but filler. Nothing heavy, all jokes and laughs and stories recounted. Tommy knows Tubbo. He knows what stories may trigger bad memories. So Tommy carefully avoids them, delicately steering the conversation towards some of his favorite moments with Tubbo. It’s not something Tommy’s particularly used to. But he manages. 

Inevitably, the conversation gets heavier. Darker. Talk of elections, of banishment, of festivals, of explosions, of exile, of depression, of manipulation, of fear, of terror, of sorrow, of grief, of fleeting joy, of panic, of grim acceptance, of hope, of death.

Tommy tells Tubbo everything. The good and the bad. Most of it bad. He tells his brother everything. Sometimes he has to force the words out through thick sobs, but he manages to get them out. Tubbo has to know.

And Tubbo tells Tommy everything too. He tells Tommy everything that Tommy didn’t know happened in L’manberg. Everything that happened while Tommy was exiled. Tubbo tells Tommy about his confliction over the exile. Tommy learns about how Tubbo felt like he was losing control over his own country, many of his decisions influenced by Dream or Quackity. Tubbo tells Tommy about Techno’s near execution and Phil’s house arrest. Tommy’s told about the true reasoning behind the festival. He hears about how Tubbo carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and managed to stand straight anyways.

It’s a brutally honest conversation. A conversation that has both Tommy and Tubbo crying until neither can speak anymore. A conversation that ends with Tommy hugging Tubbo, and Tubbo hugging him back. Tears clump on Tommy’s eyelashes as he clutches Tubbo. He can hear the harsh, ragged sobs coming from Tubbo. Can feel the way his chest heaves against Tommy’s.

They’ve come so far together.

Throughout everything, it’s always been Tommy and Tubbo. Tommy and Tubbo, fighting for the discs. Tommy and Tubbo, fighting for L’manberg’s freedom. Tommy and Tubbo, fighting against Schlatt’s rule. Tommy and Tubbo, trying to keep the country together after Wilbur blew it up. Even during Tommy’s exile, it had still been Tommy and Tubbo. Not necessarily fighting together, but it remained between them. During Dream’s attack, it had been Tommy and Tubbo, trying to keep each other from dying.

Tommy and Tubbo, fighting against Dream for the last time, knowing that if either of them slip for an instant, it’s over.

Tommy and Tubbo, still fighting for each other even when death barred them from each other. 

Tommy and Tubbo, reunited again.

He would sacrifice the world for his Tubbo. Tommy would sacrifice the very fabric of this world to remain like this, arms wrapped around Tubbo, Tubbo’s head buried in his shoulder.

It snaps tight around his throat without warning. Tommy chokes, hands flying to his neck. Tubbo lets out a panicked cry, eyes shooting wide with fear and confusion as Tommy claws at the thing around his throat. 

Red thread

There’s a red string wrapped around his neck. Choking him. Strangling him.

Tommy thrashes, trying desperately to rip the thread from his neck. It doesn’t work. The string simply tightens, yanking him back. Tommy feels himself getting dragged backwards, and makes a strangled gasping noise.

He’s being pulled away from Tubbo.

Tubbo realizes it too. He cries out again and lunges forward, catching hold of Tommy’s shirt. “NO!”

It’s not working. Tommy’s still being dragged back, the string still remaining tight around his neck, still pulling him backwards. Tubbo digs his heels into the ground and hauls back, trying to reverse the motion. Instantly the thread digs deeper into Tommy’s throat, and he wheezes. “Tubbo-”

Tommy slams against the wall of darkness. The string doesn’t stop pulling. Tommy’s pressed flat against the nothingness, and the nothingness pushes back. It’s trying to keep him from leaving. But the constant pressure at his throat is insistent on hauling him back through the darkness-

Nimble fingers work at the string around Tommy’s neck. Tubbo’s voice is almost incomprehensible with panic. “No, it’s not working, it’s not  _ working, _ Tommy, what do I do-”

Tommy clutches at Tubbo’s wrists, unable to speak. The red string is choking him. He can’t breathe, he can’t speak, he can barely  _ move. _ Something’s happening. Something’s wrong. This isn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t possible.

There’s a terrible jolt in the pit of his stomach. 

And the darkness gives way. 

“No, no, no, Tommy, NO!” Tubbo grabs Tommy’s hand, pulling as hard as he can. “NO!” 

Tommy clings to Tubbo’s hand like it’s a lifeline. No. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to leave. He isn’t supposed to leave. He’s supposed to stay here with Tubbo. He’s supposed to be with Tubbo again. He’s supposed to stay here with Wilbur and Tubbo again. 

He manages to gasp out two words. “Please- Tubbo-”

His hand slips from Tubbo’s grip. 

The thread drags him through the thicket of darkness with frightening speed. The webs catch on Tommy’s limbs, sticking to him, trying to pull him back to no avail. Tommy thrashes the best he can, but it’s no use. The string wrapped around his neck doesn’t break. The darkness continues to give way. It hurts, there’s pain spreading through his body, there’s pain centered in his chest-

Tommy’s eyes fly open and he heaves in a choking, ragged breath. He’s flat on his back. On the ground. Pain still flares through his chest. 

_ What- _

_ How- _

_ I don’t- _

_ Tubbo. _

There are hands carding through his hair, long fingers working gently through the tangled blond curls. It’s a stark contrast to the crushing pain in his chest. It feels good. Familiar. Soothing. Slowly, Tommy finds himself relaxing into the touch, his breathing calming and evening out.

Who’s hands are those?

Tommy blinks rapidly, letting his vision come into focus. After several seconds, the world sharpens around him. And Tommy’s heart drops into his stomach.

Dream grins down at him, cracked mask pushed to the side of his face. “How was your  _ nap, _ Toms?”

No.

No, Tommy’s supposed to be dead.

Tommy’s supposed to be free.

Dream leans closer, still bearing that horrible grin. His voice is barely over a whisper. 

“I told you so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well two people asked for an afterlife chapter so here ya go
> 
> look man when i said no happy ending, i meant no happy ending
> 
> kudos and comments are, as always, greatly appreciated :D


End file.
